The Years Between
by Theodur
Summary: Post-DA2. Riona Hawke tries to build a future with Nathaniel in the Vigil's Keep, but ancient mysteries continue to intervene in her life. Her sister Bethany wants to atone for her sins by investigating a murder mystery in the Nevarran Circle. Merrill remains trapped beyond the eluvian, searching for the sacred Arlathan, while the Warden-Queen of Ferelden is busy preparing for war.
1. Chapter 1

Hi folks!

After a brief foray in the universe of Mass Effect (a most brilliant game, if you are not currently freaking out about the endings in a widespread panic), I am back to write more Dragon Age stuff.

This story is a sequel to my Dragon Age 2 novel 'Tranquility' and post-DA2 story 'Survivors of Kirkwall'. Both can probably be found via my profile or something.

Just a brief reminder of where things stand, in case you have forgotten and/or can't be bothered to catch up: Ferelden is under the rule of the Grey Warden Maythre, a devious elven blood mage, who has freed the mages, dissolved the Circle and kicked the Chantry out of Ferelden for good. After the events in Kirkwall reached their culmination, Maythre sent her right hand Ser Cauthrien to seize Hawke and bring her to Denerim. Unable to learn anything useful from Hawke, the Warden Queen eventually allowed her to leave Denerim, and Hawke did so in company of Nathaniel Howe, following him to Vigil's Keep. On the other side of the Waking Sea, after defeating Corypheus, Bethany has set out on an adventure of her own, seeking answers and looking for her missing sweetheart, Merrill, who unknown to Bethany has been pulled through the eluvian by the dangerous Xebenkeck the Undying... (come to think of it, this makes a lot more sense if you actually read the stories. This summary makes me appear like a real crackpot of a writer.)

By the way, even if you folks start a petition and gather more than 4000 signatures, I'm telling you in advance that I won't change my endings under no circumstances. I invoke artistic integrity and proclaim my right to write shit if I want to. (I'll try not to, I swear!)

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_Road near West Hill, Ferelden, Present Day_

Cauthrien would never have thought of herself as a nosy, overly curious type of person. But on this one occasion, against her better judgment and against the Queen's insistence that Cauthrien truly did not wish to know the real truth, curiosity got the better of her. In retrospect, she wished she had trusted her gut instinct more and had kept her mouth shut.

It was a peculiar thing, to be sure. This war-torn land, ravaged by Blight and several bloody civil wars in quick succession, had made such a speedy recovery, its economy thriving and finances apparently in a healthy state, allowing to bring in a stream of supplies from foreign lands, revitalizing the trade business. The pastures of the Bannorn were still in a sorry state and the fertile farmlands around Lothering blighted and unusable for decades to come, cutting the supply of grain, meat and vegetables, forcing them to import some of their food stores.

More so, maintaining Queen Maythre's Royal Guard required very large funds. The loyalty of these well trained and highly skilled soldiers depended on considerable wages, and yet whenever Cauthrien approached the Queen, asking for more and more sovereigns, Maythre just waved her off, looking bored, telling her to simply take what she needed from the treasury and warning Cauthrien not to inconvenience her with such trivial matters ever again.

For the past year, this one question was eating Cauthrien from the inside. _Where is all that gold coming from?_

Maythre had been evasive at first, telling her to try and put the whole line of questioning out of her head, but Cauthrien had not relented. Seeing that Cauthrien was unable to let go of the issue, the Queen eventually succumbed to her demands and agreed to let her in on the whole secret, but not before warning the general that she might yet regret her stubborn insistence.

And now, without any explanations, Cauthrien found herself traveling the Imperial Highway in the company of the Queen and a dozen of the Royal Guard. The only vague hint of their destination were the three chained prisoners dragged along by the guards, all three of them mages. Two of them had been caught willfully summoning demons, reported by their peers, successful result of the Queen's much praised self-policing approach towards the mages. Cauthrien was not sure of the crimes of the third mage. Perhaps he had simply grown too powerful, too influential or too rich. Perhaps he had been instigating some talks of insurgency. Maythre didn't need much of a reason to place someone's head on the chopping block.

It only surprised Cauthrien that these mages hadn't been cast into Fort Drakon to rot with the rest of 'the enemies of the throne'. For some reason, Maythre was taking them to the former Circle Tower near Lake Calenhad. The further they rode, the more obvious it became that Kinloch Hold was their destination.

Late in the evening of that day, Cauthrien caught the Queen up late, sitting at the fireplace with a thoughtful expression on her face. "There's only one place in Ferelden that makes you look pensive like that," the general remarked, sitting next to the Queen. "We're going to the old Circle Tower, aren't we?"

"Of course," Maythre replied without taking her eyes off the brightly burning flames. "I spent most of my life there, as you well know. The memories are hard to erase, much as I might wish to."

"How old were you when they took you in?" Cauthrien dared to ask. The Queen never spoke of these things, and showed great distaste when asked about her past, but the mood seemed different tonight. Maythre appeared unusually melancholic for some reason.

"I was six when I was brought to the Circle. Sixteen long years without ever stepping outside of that damned tower."

"Were you taken from the Denerim alienage? I have trouble imagining you among the Dalish, or the templars actually bothering to take one of the Dalish alive..." Cauthrien pressed on, encouraged by the earnest reply, lacking any hostility or venom.

Maythre gave a bitter chuckle at that. "Neither of those. It is curious, I was thinking back to those times before you approached me." She turned away from the flames to face Cauthrien. The emotion, a sense of fragility in her eyes, it seemed almost unreal, shocking to the general. "I can see you wish to hear the tale." Cauthrien nodded. "So be it. Considering what else you will soon learn... perhaps it is for the best that you know."

* * *

_Bannorn of Oswin, Ferelden, Twenty-five Years Prior_

The battle had been hard fought, even if the Dalish were outnumbered by about three to one. The elves resisted valiantly, with great fervor, men and women, young and old, but in the end it had been all for naught. They had refused to surrender, even when the outcome had been clear, and now they all lay dead.

It was a pity that things had come to this, but Bann Valdric knew that the Dalish had forced his hand in this confrontation. This particular group had encroached on his lands several months ago, hunting his game, harassing his hunters and farmers of the nearby homesteads, refusing to leave his lands, and finally sending back three of his men, sent to the Dalish with an ultimatum to leave, dead, filled with arrows and tied to the backs of their horses.

While he was still appraising the grim view of the Dalish campsite, littered with bodies of elves and men, one of his hunters shouted at him, trying to get his attention. "Bann Valdric! Over here, Bann! You have to see this!"

He hurried over immediately. "What is it, Wendal?" he asked. Wendal simply pointed downwards. Behind a tree stump, there was a shape of someone small. A little elven girl, with short dark hair and small pointy nose sat there, leafing through an ancient looking tome, seemingly oblivious to all the fighting that had taken place moments earlier. "By the Maker, what are we going to do with her?" Valdric sighed.

The elf girl looked up from her book, the keen intelligence in her intense stare taking the Bann aback, not quite what he had expected from a child not more than six years of age. "If you are going to kill me then please be quick about it. Otherwise, could you please step aside, you are blocking the light," she spoke in an unwavering voice.

Bann Valdric and Wendal stared at each other, mouths agape from surprise, until they inexplicably complied with the request, moving away from the girl. Only after a good while Wendal regained ability to speak. "Well… it don't seem right thing to do… but what the kid says, well, it's gotta be one solution too, right? I mean… no one's going to miss her, ey?"

Valdric shook his head. "We can't kill a child, Wendal," he said. "Elf or no elf, she is still an innocent child. Now, I have no idea what to do with her, but for now, I suppose we'll take her with us."

"Are you in charge of the fortress to the north, the big human settlement?" the girl spoke up, not hesitating to interrupt two grown-up, armed men who had just slaughtered dozens of her kin, likely including her parents.

"Yes, child. I am Bann Valdric, ruler of these lands, and that fortress belongs to me," he replied.

"Then yes, take me with you. I will be good, I promise," the girl rose from the ground, putting the book aside and reaching out to brush some pine needles and straws off her simple linen dress.

"…very well," Valdric replied. "Do you have a name, child?"

"You may call me Maythre," the girl replied, then extending a tiny arm for a handshake. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Bann Valdric."

* * *

_Campsite near West Hill, Ferelden, Present Day_

"...so you were with the Dalish," Cauthrien felt very surprised. This was not what she had expected. "Did you lose your parents in that battle?"

"My father, I think," Maythre replied. The small shrug of her shoulders indicated that she truly did not care about their fates. "I do not remember much, but I think my mother was of another clan for I have no recollection of her. I recall the tales of the elders about her being less than complimentary. Apparently she somehow lured my father away from his clan, and his betrothed. When he returned to the clan, he was carrying me on his back. I guess my mother had no interest in raising me."

"And then the Bann took you with him, what happened after that?" Cauthrien asked, her breath catching in excitement.

"Oh, Bann Valdric really did treat me well," Maythre smiled serenely. "I was an unusually bright child, and he was quite fascinated by my intelligence. With time, he grew very fond of me. If I hadn't been a Dalish elf, feared and distrusted by the rest of his people, he might have even adopted me as his daughter. But that is irrelevant, for I had no plans to stay with him."

"What do you mean by having plans? Don't tell me you were already plotting as a six year old?"

"And what do you think?" the Queen looked at her again, slightly reproachful. "Of course I had a plan. I wanted to be taken to the Circle, Cauthrien."

"But... but why?" Cauthrien's face was full of incomprehension. "Most mages want to escape the Circle and the imprisonment in the tender care of templars!"

The Queen's face darkened for a moment, but then it cleared, settling into exasperated expression of patience, as if having to explain something trivial to a child. "Most of those gifted with magic do not realize their own potential at first," she started to explain. "Often the talent manifests itself in a catastrophic way under great stress or other strong stimuli, shocking the magically gifted child and becoming a source of sorrow for their families when the templars come calling. The tale is all too familiar, but my case is different."

Cauthrien listened in silence, allowing the Queen to continue after a slight pause, as if she still wasn't certain whether she wanted to share all of this with the general. "For as long as I can remember, I have always felt magic flowing in my veins." She raised her delicate hand with long slender fingers, snapping them swiftly, a small blue jolt of electricity passing through them and dissipating just as quickly. "Magic itching at my fingertips, demanding to be given free reign. I felt its power and calling as a small child, Cauthrien. But I also felt that I needed help to work this gift, to shape and develop it into something more. I needed someone that could instruct me how to use this magic."

"The Dalish have their own mages, don't they?" Cauthrien asked. "I seem to remember you telling me about them. Keepers, weren't they called?"

"Yes, that's right," Maythre nodded. "My clan had lost their Keeper some time after my birth, and she had not completed the training of her successor, her First. We looked to the other clans for aid, but nobody was eager to part with their First. I think it was around that time when I learned about the mage Circles in human lands. Whoever told me about them, made them seem like everything I craved for, dozens, hundreds of mages sharing a pool of knowledge and power. I decided that I needed to gain entrance to this fabled Circle."

"Whoever told you that, left out a few important bits," Cauthrien remarked.

"Indeed, I did not learn the whole truth until I was actually admitted to the Circle," Maythre continued the tale. "That winter was harsh. There was little game for hunting, and the clan was starving, struggling without the guidance of a Keeper. I made a mention to my father that the lands of the wealthy humans on the edges of the Brecillian Forest might be richer in game and other much needed supplies. As he laughed and brushed me off, I... I sensed something... something in his mind. If I only concentrated hard enough, I could reach out and feel his thoughts, not read them as such, but... I felt that with enough effort I could seize and control them."

Cauthrien again remained silent as the Queen continued. "For many nights, while he slept, I sat beside him, concentrating the best I could, trying to guide a certain idea to his head, trying to compel him to act on it. I was pleasantly surprised that soon afterwards, I heard my father speak passionately to the other hunters, pleading with them to raid the human lands, or else the clan would perish."

"You... manipulated your clan into pillaging Bann Valdric's lands?" Cauthrien felt herself shaking slightly as she asked her question. She thought she was immune to whatever atrocities Maythre might perform, but for this revelation she simply hadn't been prepared. "Didn't you know what would happen?"

"Oh yes," Maythre's grin felt all the more disturbing as she again turned to face Cauthrien. "In fact, I counted on it."

"You sent your own clan... your own father to die, just so that you could leave the clan and get admitted to the Circle?" Cauthrien shook her head in disbelief. "That is... completely mad! The humans could have easily killed you as well in the massacre!"

"True, I'm not going to claim it was my best plan ever," Maythre admitted with an amused chuckle. "But I felt that it was worth taking a certain risk. I knew I had no future with my clan. They avoided me, they feared me, they called me 'demon-spawn' when they thought I was not listening... no, I rejoiced in watching them getting cut down before my eyes." The Queen paused again, giving Cauthrien a sidelong look. "Truly, after all that we have done, why does this surprise you?"

"It's just... not how a child is supposed to think or reason..." Cauthrien stumbled.

"Not any normal child," Maythre clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "I know, I was supposed to be emotionally attached to my father, feel kinship to my clan, that would have been considered 'normal'. Perhaps my father's attitude towards me was to blame. I was certain he and my mother had parted on poor terms, and it felt as if he resented me for it, felt saddled with this inconvenience of a little girl. He showed me no affection nor love, and I grew up feeling none in return."

"I guess that explains some of it," Cauthrien nodded. "But you ended with the Bann, not in the Circle, or at least not right away. How did you get to Kinloch Hold?"

"Oh, after I had earned Bann Valdric's affections to the extent where I felt he would protect me, I made my magical abilities manifest themselves in a spectacular way. A complete accident, I am sure!" Maythre smiled, this memory obviously more pleasant to her. "Some of the other children made an effort to make my life miserable when the Bann wasn't there to look out for me. When the time was ripe, I set several of them on fire. Just a little bit, I didn't kill them!" she added with a mirthful laugh, having seen the expression on Cauthrien's face.

"The good Bann didn't have any option but to send for the templars, I take it?"

"The good Bann did no such thing. He took me to Kinloch Hold himself, and demanded an audience with First Enchanter Irving," Maythre explained, fond smile on her lips. "Bann Valdric was... a truly good and honorable man. Whatever he said to Irving must have made an impression on the First Enchanter. Irving took me as his own apprentice and I was in his care for my first five years in the Circle... but my first memory of Kinloch Hold is not that of First Enchanter Irving. It was the forging of my phylactery, a nasty surprise in store for me. I remember it clearly as if it were yesterday... the creation of the leash that would hold me for sixteen long years..."

* * *

_Kinloch Hold, Ferelden, Twenty-three Years Prior_

With morbid fascination, Maythre watched the drops of blood flowing from the small incision in her finger. It looked so pure, so delightful, a sort of primal beauty, she was somehow disappointed there wasn't more of it. But with his practiced hand, the grim-faced mage had made the cut very tiny to get just enough blood to fill the small, odd looking empty crystal that he then sealed with a complex sounding incantation and together with Irving they had taken it away for storage.

They both returned soon, Irving's voice shaking Maythre out of her reverie. "You are still bleeding, child! Give me your hand, let me heal that."

Maythre quickly took her hand away. "It is not necessary. The cut has nearly closed on its own."

The First Enchanter looked a little puzzled at her reaction, but said nothing. "What was that thing he made with my blood?" she asked. During her first two weeks at the Tower, she had learned enough to suspect the answer already, but she still wanted to hear what Irving's explanation would be.

"It is something called a phylactery, which is like… essence of an individual, a mage," Irving told her. Her face was like an essence of curiosity that was hard to resist. "You see, sometimes mages… they cannot control the forces they possess, they succumb to the lure of the Fade spirits and do terrible, awful things to innocents. Every apprentice that has ever come to this tower has had his phylactery created for this very possibility. The phylactery enables the templars to track this rebellious mage down and bring him back under control."

"Are you sure she should be hearing this?" the grim, balding mage asked, looking displeased at Irving's openness.

"She would learn of this all eventually in any case, Uldred. I am certain this won't do any harm at all," the First Enchanter said.

"I am sure the templars will never have a reason to come hunting for me, Uldred," Maythre spoke up, staring defiantly at the other mage.

Uldred stared at her, then shrugged and threw another displeased glance at Irving. "Do as you will, she is your apprentice. But do teach the girl some manners at the very least, no respect for senior enchanters at all," he scoffed.

"She is just a child, Uldred," Irving smiled. "But we shall trouble you no more, come Maythre, let us leave the senior enchanter to his studies. Goodnight, Uldred."

"Irving," Uldred nodded in return, then resuming his work all the while muttering about how 'this girl will bring nothing but trouble' under his nose.

First Enchanter Irving chuckled at himself as he led his young protégé back to the apprentice quarters. It was rather amusing that Maythre managed to spook even a grim, cynical bastard like Uldred. She had a special gift for magic, that was certain, but above all, she was just a child, pure and innocent. She would grow up to be the pride of the Circle. Of that he had no doubt.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Part of this chapter was written over two years ago. When incorporating it in this new story, I discovered something that I immediately considered a logical fallacy. I refer to the fact of mage phylacteries being sent to Denerim after they pass the Harrowing. I could not for the life of me remember if that was my idea or was that a fact from the game. It seems dumb - what if a mage escapes, they need to make all that way to Denerim, get the phylactery and then chase the apostate down. That's a lot of time lost there. Besides, in the Asunder novel, it's quite plainly stated that in the Circle of Val Royeaux, they keep the mage phylacteries inside the Tower. Why would they do things differently in Ferelden? It made no sense, so I started to rewrite this part.

Then I decided to double check and created a new character to play through the mage origin story. And what do you know... after you complete your Harrowing, Irving tells you that your phylactery has been shipped to Denerim... oh well, go figure! Glad I didn't rewrite it after all. :P

* * *

**Chapter 2**

_Kinloch Hold, Ferelden, Twenty-two Years Prior_

"If you would only listen to what I am trying to say, Greagoir…"

"No! I will hear no more of this! I have made myself quite clear on the matter, and I expect you mages to fall in line and do as the Chantry bids, this is not negotiable! Enough! I want the names of those responsible on my desk tomorrow morning, or the Circle will face some additional restrictions!"

Maythre watched the heavily armored templar commander storm down the hallway of the Circle Tower, after another heated argument with First Enchanter had left old Irving shaking his head and looking desperate. The little brown-eyed elf girl tugged on the First Enchanter's robes, trying to shift Irving's attention away from his row with Greagoir and back to her.

"First Enchanter? First Enchanter?" Maythre looked up at the kind old man who had been her mentor for the first year she had spent in the Circle Tower. "I don't understand. Why do we mages let the bad men of the Chantry treat us like their servants? Greagoir should not be allowed to yell at you like that, when you have enough power to blast him on the spot. I think that the Circle has enough power to destroy the Chantry and the templars easily."

Irving gave her a measuring look before sighing and replying. "Greagoir is not a bad man, Maythre..." the young girl looked like she very much disagreed. Irving had rarely seen a child this opinionated and headstrong at the tender age of seven. She also had none of the timid meekness and subservience that all the other young elven apprentices tended to display. Maythre, from the moment she was brought in, a survivor in a skirmish between a stray group of Dalish and hunters of one of the south-western bannorns of Ferelden, displayed fierce pride and independence, unlike the 'tamed' alienage elves, and young Maythre's contempt for her city kin was always plain to see.

"Listen to me now child, and listen to me carefully," he leaned down closer to her. "It is precisely because of what you say that we must allow the Chantry to govern us. It is **because** we have so much power that we could destroy us all. Remember this well, and never forget it."

The girl looked a little confused and not entirely convinced at his words. It was not the first time that he wondered if her fiery character and at times deviant opinions would not cause problems in the long run. This was one reason why he had decided to tutor the young elf himself, because he saw the tremendous potential in her, far greater than in any of his other apprentices, and because he recognized the danger if her potential got out of hand. But... she was only an innocent child still, there was plenty of time to mould and even out her character, plenty of time to make her into a proud, loyal servant of the Circle...

* * *

_Lake Calenhad Approach, Ferelden, Present Day_

It was several weeks since Cauthrien had asked her that simple, yet fateful question that had shaken Queen Maythre more than it ought to have. "Ferelden is firmly in our control now," her trusted general had said. "What comes next?"

Maythre had been taken completely aback by this question, only able to stammer something evasive in reply, and fortunately Cauthrien hadn't picked up on her confusion. The truth was simple, and it would have shocked Cauthrien if she only knew. The truth was that Maythre had absolutely no idea, no plans for what she was supposed to do next.

Was she supposed to simply hold Ferelden under her iron grasp? Or was she supposed to look at the neighboring Orlais, ripe with rumors of unrest and civil war and perhaps plan a swift invasion to seize a good chunk of their lands?

All her life up to this point, Maythre remembered having a very clear goal, even as the little girl from the tales she had shared with Cauthrien. Everything she had done, had been to grab more and more power, seize the throne of Ferelden, overthrow the Chantry and purge land of the Maker's hypocrisy. Now it had all been achieved, and she felt lost, stranded like fish ashore, almost as if waiting for someone to tell her what to do, where to strike next.

_I wish I knew why I feel this way. I made these plans to rule Ferelden as its Queen, I should not have any difficulties in coming up with ideas on how to proceed,_ she thought at herself desperately, an unpleasant feeling at the pit of her stomach as her mind wandered towards more disturbing possibilities. _Nobody put me up to do all of this! Nobody! It was me all along! My plans, my ideas!_ She shouted inside her own head, trying to quell the mad speculations plaguing her for many days now.

"Are you alright, my Queen?" Cauthrien's voice broke through her jumbled thoughts, and it was only then that Maythre realized she had released the reins of her horse and was holding her head in her hands. She quickly grabbed the reins again, pulling her white mare back alongside Cauthrien's dark steed on the cobbled path of the Imperial Highway.

"Unpleasant spiking headache," she lied quickly. _Something isn't right here. Something isn't right with me. But I will get to the bottom of it._ That was one reason why she had decided to travel to the old Circle Tower. _The place where it all started. Maybe returning there will give me some long sought answers._

The other reason was Cauthrien's annoying insistence to know where all the wealth of Ferelden was coming from. The Circle Tower would provide her with that answer as well. After that, there would be only two options for Cauthrien; she would either be dead or her loyalty would be further reinforced. _Perhaps that is why I feel like sharing my past with her. One way or another, she will never be able to harm me. And after Zevran's death... I have this irrational need to have at least someone close and following me by their own choosing, not compelled by my blood magic. I hope Cauthrien's reaction will not disappoint me._

"We could stop while it passes," Cauthrien suggested, looking a little concerned. "We are not in a hurry."

"Truly, it is not necessary," Maythre smiled in reply. "Perhaps talking might help. Yes, I feel that it would."

"Very well... in that case, I have a question for you, my Queen," Cauthrien said, encouraged by her friendly invitation. "We heard about mages trying to escape the Circle all the time. Most of them unsuccessfully, never even making outside or quickly hunted down by templars. Did you ever try to escape?"

Maythre chuckled before replying. "That reminds me of old, foolish Anders. How many times did he try to escape, six, seven? He never got very far, of course, not with the templars having his phylactery, but I suspect it was all a game to him. A dangerous game that I was not willing to play. After a few more escape attempts, the templars might have just decided not to bring him back but to execute him after tracking him down again."

"As for me..." she continued a while later. "Of course I started to plan for the eventual escape as soon as I discovered all the details about the phylacteries. I realized that escaping while the templars still had my phylactery would be foolish. I needed to make sure that they had no means with which to track me down."

"How did you plan to ensure that?" Cauthrien asked.

"I wasn't certain at the time, but then something happened, a fortunate occurrence that would give me an idea," Maythre looked thoughtful as she replied, delving deep into her memories. "Let me see... the evening was getting late, and I was in the First Enchanter Irving's study, practicing the Mind Blast spell under his supervision, when he received an all too familiar visitor..."

* * *

_Kinloch Hold, Ferelden, Twenty Years Prior_

"Irving! I need your assistance immediately!" Knight-Commander Greagoir spoke impatiently, barging into First Enchanter's study without any warning. "Niall completed his Harrowing good while ago, and we have not yet sent the phylactery to Denerim, it is about time we do that. You know that I need you to enter the vault," he added, having faced Irving's disapproving stare.

"Can't it wait?" the First Enchanter replied, his spell broken off with Greagoir's sudden appearance. "We are in the middle of a lesson here, I don't want to leave my apprentice right now."

"Bah! I don't have time for this," Greagoir frowned. "If you can't leave her with someone, then just take her along and continue your lessons afterwards!"

"But taking apprentices to the phylactery vault is against regulations, you know that," Irving looked surprised that Greagoir would even suggest something like that.

"She's just a child, what is she going to do? Tomorrow she won't even remember being down there," Greagoir waved him off dismissively. "I need that phylactery sent tonight or I will have some explaining to do, so could we simply get it over with?"

"Very well," Irving said, taking Maythre by the hand. "Come with me child, and don't be afraid. We shall take a little walk to the basement."

Maythre struggled hard to suppress her curiosity and avoid bursting out in questions, as that would probably have led to Irving sending her to Wynne or Sweeney to look after her, until he and Greagoir conducted their business. This would have been most undesirable. For a good while she had wondered what secrets were hiding behind the heavy locked door leading below the ground level of the tower. She had been able to sneak a peek inside a few times, but it hadn't revealed more than a dark hallway and equally heavy set of doors further ahead.

Of course, by now Greagoir had already mentioned a vault and phylacteries. It made sense to her, of course they had to be hidden somewhere safe in the Tower. Now she would find out where.

The first door yielded after Greagoir had recited a quick verse, likely something from his much treasured Chant of Light, after which Irving cast a simple cantrip at the doors, thus opening them. This was strange, because she recognized the spell and its purpose had nothing to do with opening locks. Maythre kept quiet and continued to study the massive door, trying to learn as much as she could about the wards designed to keep it shut.

Another gate stood in their way after that, this one also primed by a password that Greagoir spoke with undeserved pride of a Chantry tool. More interestingly, this time Irving did not assist with any spells, for this door was covered with several conventional locks, and both Greagoir and Irving retrieved chains with a pair of silver keys on them, using those to get past the final barrier.

Inside was a giant storeroom with countless desks and shelves. Menacing statues of stone guardians overlooked their passage through this magical place. The air down here was cold and dry, perhaps maintained so to keep the phylacteries in correct condition. And speaking of phylacteries, there were quite a few of them, at least three large shelves dedicated only for storage of these fragile crystals. Was there three, four dozen of them? Maythre had at first expected there to be even more, but of course, these were only phylacteries of the apprentices and there probably were not more than fifty of them at the Tower at this time.

While Irving searched the shelves for the phylactery of this Niall, Maythre tried to take in as many sights as she possibly could, trying to make most of her chance of seeing the rarely mentioned vault of the Tower. She made an effort to spot where in the shelves was her phylactery, but then with the corner of her eye, she noticed Greagoir watching her with a piercing stare and that forced her to break off her searching and instead pretend to be studying the less interesting floor tiles, before slowly turning towards Greagoir, an innocent look and then a slowly blossoming broad smile.

The templar was unable to hold her stare, so he just harrumphed something under his breath and walked over to Irving to harass the old mage into finding Niall's phylactery as quickly as possible. This gave Maythre some much needed time. There was plenty of wonder to see and learn about here, but she was clear in her mind on what she needed to focus on. It was those massive doors leading into the Vault and the wards preventing entry.

Because, even if she wasn't yet entirely sure why, she simply knew that she needed to be able to return to this place.

* * *

_Lake Calenhad Approach, Ferelden, Present Day_

"That's when you started forming a serious plan to escape the Tower?" Cauthrien asked, after the Queen had finished her tale.

"You could say that," Maythre nodded. "I had been thinking about it before, but that was the day when idle musings turned into solid ideas. I finally knew what I needed to do in order to be able to escape at the right moment."

"Let me guess... you tried to break into the vault and get to your phylactery," Cauthrien ventured.

"Oh, I would never have attempted something like that without plenty of preparations," Maythre laughed, shaking her head. "Besides, remember the door mechanisms that I described to you. Something like 'breaking in' would have never worked. No, to get inside, I would need to employ the one and only powerful tool in my possession. My magic."

Cauthrien did not say anything, so Maythre continued a while later. "I was certain that all the locks, all the wards on those doors could be countered and then resealed with the right spell. But it was not something that I could simply read about in the books and then use it. I needed time to study those protections and then design something unique that could neutralize them. Such work would take very long time, Cauthrien."

"Are we talking weeks or months here?" the general asked.

Maythre let out a brief chortle, before giving Cauthrien an amused stare. "Try years, my dear Cauthrien. Eight long years to be more precise."

Cauthrien looked shocked at that. "Eight years?" she repeated, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't imagine how finally making that breakthrough would have felt. You must have been exhilarated, eager to put it to use and finally be out of that cursed place."

"I was pleased, yes, but I could not use that knowledge immediately," Maythre replied, remembering how it had felt to make that decision. Success had never tasted as bittersweet as then. "In fact, I had to put all my research aside for several years before I could make the attempt."

"But why? Why couldn't you just go in there, smash your phylactery and escape? Why wait? You would have still stood a much better chance at success than all the other escapees with their phylacteries intact!"

"It was too risky," Maythre shook her head. "I realized that I was too young and lacked the survival skills to last on my own long enough to reach the Dalish. Not that I could be certain they would welcome me. And more importantly, I felt that I had not learned everything that I could from the Circle, its senior mages and the wisdom of its libraries. I wanted to consume all of its knowledge, absorb all the power from the yellowing pages of dusty tomes, before I left it forever."

"Such restraint and patience when freedom was at your fingertips," Cauthrien's voice was full of awe. "But did you finally await that moment to stage your escape?"

"I always knew that I would have to make that attempt shortly after my Harrowing. A ritual where a young and unprepared mage is thrown into the Fade at the mercy of demons to prove themselves," Maythre explained, not bothering to hide the deep hatred in her voice. "I would succeed easily, of course, and become a full fledged mage. Once that was done, my phylactery would be removed from the Circle vaults and sent to Denerim, to be stored safely in the basements of the Chantry. I would need to make a move before my phylactery was transported away."

"There was also another possibility, and it was to gain the trust of the senior mages. They left the Circle Tower ever so often on various business, and occasionally took a delighted apprentice with them. Imagine if Irving or Torrin, my tutor during my later years at the Circle, would have taken me with them to say, Val Royeaux or Cumberland," Maythre said. "On the eve of our departure, I would have entered the vault and smashed my phylactery to bits. When I was far away from the Circle Tower and preferably Ferelden itself, I would have made my escape. They would have never been able to track me down then."

Cauthrien nodded, appearing impressed. "I have to admit that is sound thinking," she said. "But I take it that you never got to put that plan in motion."

"No, I didn't," Maythre's face darkened. "I'm not sure I could have ever made it work, unless I somehow got rid of Wynne. Irving, Torrin, Leorah, Sweeney, they all adored me, but not that old biddy, always spying on me, suspicious witch."

"Why would she do that?" Cauthrien asked.

"Wynne's specialty was the Creation school of magic. Her lectures always put me to sleep, being too boring, and I grew careless and misspoke part of an incantation." Cauthrien only blinked at her, clearly not realizing the meaning of her words. "The phrase I spoke wrongly was part of a blood magic spell. Damn it, Wynne wasn't even supposed to know what it was!" she felt her fists clench at the memory. "Yet, somehow she recognized that it was blood magic related. She ran to Irving right after that lecture. I was lucky that Irving chose to believe my story that I had simply misspoken, but I could tell that Wynne never truly believed that explanation."

"You were already dabbling in blood magic at that time?" there was a slight tremor in Cauthrien's voice as she asked the question, herself once a victim of Maythre's dark magic.

"I had never cast a blood magic spell," Maythre said. "But I already knew at least two dozen of them. During my stay at the Circle, I did not form many friendships or mingle with the other apprentices. What free time I had was all spent on either cracking those wards on the vault doors or reading, one tome after another. I think I came close to consuming half of that massive library over those sixteen years."

"But surely they did not keep tomes on blood magic on those shelves," Cauthrien spoke.

"That is true. However, there were countless subtle allusions to blood magic in the texts approved as safe for us, impressionable apprentices. It was quite remarkable how often I found passages that dozen others had read without picking up on these hints. When untangled and combined, I could have put together several large tomes on blood magic from all that!"

"So what did you do when it became apparent that winning the trust of all the senior enchanters would be impossible?" Cauthrien asked. "Did you simply wait for your Harrowing?"

The Queen nodded slowly. "I also considered arranging an accident for Wynne. However, it never came to that as another unexpected and welcomed opportunity presented itself." As Cauthrien looked at her with great interest, however, Maythre raised her hand and pointed at the distance westwards. "But look, we have arrived!"

Through the opening in the pine forest, they could see the beautiful cold deep blue waters of Lake Calenhad spreading to their right, an outline of the Circle Tower just barely visible in the mist some distance from the shore. "And would you know, The Spoiled Princess is still standing," Maythre pointed at a large wooden log building near the shore. "It is getting late. Why don't we secure rooms for the night, and make the trip to the tower tomorrow?" Cauthrien only nodded in acceptance. "Patience, you will have your answers, Cauthrien. And this way, I will also be able to finish my tale..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Kinloch Hold, Ferelden, Eight Years Prior_

_"We must allow ourselves to be governed because we have the power to destroy us all."_ Those words hadn't made sense to Maythre at the age of nine, and they still made no sense when she was twenty one. To her mind, those who had power ruled, and those who didn't have the power bowed to those who did. That was the natural order of things.

The girl had grown to be quite attractive, short-cropped dark-brown, almost black hair, small pointed nose and mischievously glinting eyes that made her appear innocently cute and harmlessly roguish at worst. It was fortunate that she had learned to shield her thoughts and opinions at an early age, as soon as she realized that openly stating what she thought could be very, very dangerous.

_"Magic exists to serve man, not to rule over him." Magic, yes. Mages... no. I don't intend to serve anyone, much less Greagoir and the Chantry. And my magic will serve __**me**_. Maythre mused, sitting in front of the mirror and idly brushing her hair. She grinned at the mirror, a smile that would seem innocent and soft to anyone, the momentary darkening of her eyes nearly impossible to detect.

Yes, it was good that she had learned to shield herself so well, not just her thoughts, but also her skill and potential. Irving and Torrin still considered her to be 'very talented, promising, but with a lot to prove'. Even a few days ago she had overheard Wynne telling Sweeney that she had 'somewhat stalled in her development'. She had been extremely pleased to hear that, since it was what she had always wanted, to appear just talented enough to be considered ready for the Harrowing. They should never know, never suspect what she was really capable of. Not until it was too late.

And now, they had informed her to prepare for her Harrowing, which was to take place immediately after Irving and the templars had completed their preparations. At last, she would be able to set her long hatched plans into motion. From that one special day, more than ten years ago, she had worked and schemed relentlessly for this one moment, one chance at freedom, to learn of the world outside of this dusty prison, where a whole wide world loomed, full of secrets to explore, power to gain, experiments to perform. World full of possibilities, instead of the narrow predetermined boundaries of the safe Chantry approved magic.

If only Greagoir had known how seeing the vault would affect her all those years ago. Oh, Maythre was sure that she would have eventually been led this same way once she had discovered the existence and purpose of the vault, but Greagoir's folly simply bought her several years of time to plan, it focused her on this one and only task ahead. What little knowledge she had gained on that brief visit had been crucial, with her ability to remember tiniest details about the process of entry into the vault. And so she had pursued this plan, relentless and stubborn as a mabari that had caught a scent of blood, it had taken eight years to complete in full with four further years after, before a chance had presented to bring the plan into fruition.

There had been much to do. To learn of the wards, the principle of how they were built, how to bypass them, that was a challenge on its own. The password of the templars, how often it was changed, who kept it and had access to it, and then finally, finding a way of eliminating the very need for it by neutralizing the ward at its very core, the way to reactivate it to mask any signs of unauthorized entrance. Then, the same process needed to be done with the inner door as well. The protective magics of the place had been challenging, but her keen mind had cracked them in the course of the years after she had seen the vault and the mechanisms guarding it.

She remembered first stepping into the vault one night, after she had finally disabled all the wards. The sensation, the thrill of so much forbidden magic surrounding her, the dozens of apprentice phylacteries on the shelves of the vault... like tiny strings in a puppeteer's show. She had been so tempted to take her phylactery then and smash it on the ground, destroying that hated leash. She remembered tears streaming down her face as she steeled herself and put her key to freedom back on the shelf. She had to be strong. It was not her time yet, and it would not be for four more years.

The problem back then was that phylacteries were controlled and checked every two weeks by Irving and two other senior mages. It would have been all too easy for them to discover one phylactery missing and then track down whose it was. Nor was it possible to in some way tamper with an essence of a mage, to replace it somehow. If she was to destroy her phylactery, it needed to be done in such a way that either no one would suspect anything, or at a point where she could leave the Tower forever without fear of ever being tracked down.

The time after her Harrowing seemed perfect. Even though Irving had always said that the phylactery was sent to Denerim immediately after Harrowing, she had done enough research over the years to know that this was not exactly true. There was always time frame of two to six, perhaps even more days before the phylactery was sent, since practical reasons meant that sending a rider all the way to Denerim just for the sake of one phylactery would be very inefficient.

Shortly after, a sudden knock on the door alerted her, forcing to forget all musings and refocus on the task at hand. A templar had come to fetch her, and she felt a surge of anger noticing that it was Cullen, no doubt volunteering to escort his victim to the Harrowing chambers while shyly and quietly muttering some words that he thought would bolster her morale. She let his attempts at encouraging her slide past, his words barely registering in her consciousness. Only her being successful at the Harrowing mattered now. Finally, it was time.

* * *

_The Spoiled Princess Inn, Lake Calenhad, Present Day_

After yet another sleepless night, everyone made sure to get out of the Queen's way very quickly, sensing her dark mood. The fat innkeeper, pale and frightened, tiptoed around the table Maythre shared with Cauthrien, trying to make as little noise as possible while serving their meal. If there had been any other guests at the inn, he had managed to get rid of them quickly and efficiently, fearing that their presence would irritate the Queen. Fortunately for him and everyone, Maythre's disposition improved rapidly after the hearty breakfast, and she went as far as rewarding the innkeeper with a generous tip.

"I have sent the guards to secure our boat to the tower," she informed Cauthrien over a cup of leaf tea. "Unfortunately, it seems that the old man running the boat had just departed to carry some supplies to the tower and won't be back for several hours, which means we have some spare time."

"I didn't think there would be anybody staying at that tower since you dissolved the Circle completely," Cauthrien looked at her piercingly. "Who's living there, and why are we taking those imprisoned mages there?"

"All in good time, my dear Cauthrien," Maythre laughed. "You seemed full of admiration for my patience when I was waiting for a chance to escape the Circle Tower, and yet, you have not learned from it. Such a shame!"

Cauthrien muttered something under her breath before looking at the Queen again. "Speaking of which, perhaps you would finish the tale that you started yesterday?" she asked.

The Queen looked around, particularly at the innkeeper at the bar, cleaning dusty ale flagons with a rag of questionable cleanliness. "I agree, but perhaps we should take a walk while I do so?" she asked, Cauthrien agreeing with a nod. Outside, it was an unexpectedly sunny autumn morning, but the chill of the night was still prevalent in the air as they slowly walked near the edge of the water, Maythre tugging on her thick grey robes, tucking herself in more tightly to ward against the cold.

"I told you before that I did not bother forming friendships while at the Circle," the Queen started. "Well, that was perhaps not entirely accurate. I did have a friend, or at least he considered me to be his friend. A boy that I met when I was twelve or thirteen, angry little rebel who had no friends, just like me in that regard. He was ridiculed by his peers and for some reason also disliked by the senior mages and tutors, so he immediately developed fondness and attachment to the only person in the Circle that did not make fun out of him." Maythre turned to look at Cauthrien. "You knew this boy too. Many years ago, Loghain sent him to infiltrate Redcliffe and poison Arl Eemon."

Cauthrien's eyes widened. "I... do seem to remember some apostate," she said, deep in thought. "But the name escapes me. Jon-something..."

"Jowan," Maythre corrected her. "He was a few years my elder and we always believed he would be put through his Harrowing first. Yet months passed and still, Jowan kept being overlooked. When I was chosen before him... Jowan started to panic, and not without reason. If the senior mages did not believe he could handle the rigors of Harrowing, there was only one other option for him, to become a tranquil. He suspected others to be plotting against him, whispering to the templars that he should be made into tranquil. At one point Jowan almost snapped, starting to make angry demands of Irving and Wynne, and this simply worsened his situation even more. He found himself with only one option left."

"To try and escape the Circle," Cauthrien said.

"Indeed," Maythre nodded. "And to do this, he came to seek my aid..."

* * *

_Kinloch Hold, Ferelden, Eight Years Prior_

"So let me see if I understand this clearly," Maythre said, looking at Jowan and his frightened girlfriend, a grey Chantry mouse called Lily. "You want my aid to break into the Vault and destroy your phylactery?"

"Yes!" Jowan exclaimed in a desperate voice. "I cannot go through the Rite of Tranquility! I would rather die trying to be free of these chains!"

"Please... you will help us, yes?" Lily begged with tearful eyes.

Maythre paused, thoughts swimming rapidly through her head. "I must consider this. As you can imagine, the risk I would be taking by doing this is immense. What can you offer me that would persuade me to risk everything I have worked so hard to obtain, and possibly land imprisoned in Aeonar?"

"You can have all my possessions, all the arcane artifacts that I have, everything, please I beg you," Jowan pleaded.

"There are bound to be more valuables stored in the vault," Lily added. "We do not care about those at all, you are free to take them as you wish."

Obviously, only an idiot would risk removing something from the vault, to inevitably get discovered later when the mages together with the templars would surely sweep the tower. However… it was in Maythre's favor to feign interest in Jowan's foolish little undertaking.

"That hardly seems enough," she said after a moment of deliberation. Agreeing too swiftly could be suspicious, even if these two didn't appear overly quick on uptake. And perhaps they could provide more of an incentive as well. "I'm sorry, but unless you can offer me more, the best I can promise is to not let Irving know about the topic of our discussion."

"Please, anything but that!" Lily exclaimed in fright. "Jowan, I told you this was a mistake, she will not help."

"It's alright, Lily, I have… one last thing to offer," Jowan looked grim as he spoke. "It is best I discuss this with Maythre alone, however." Lily looked surprised and worried at his words, but Jowan was quick to reassure her. "I was going to propose I teach her some long forgotten techniques of arcane arts that are extremely rare and I doubt whether Irving has ever even mentioned them to her. But such talk would be quite boring for you, I'm sure. There are still plenty of preparations to make for our plans, so… if you could get started with those, it would be great help."

"All right… I hope you two know what you're doing," Lily shrugged and left the small chapel, a place of gathering for the Chantry apologists amongst the Circle, as well as those who viewed their gift of magic as an affliction and curse, punishment from the Maker himself.

"I am surprised, Jowan," Maythre started, as soon as Lily had left. "There have been some recent rumors about someone practicing… 'long forgotten techniques'… but I never would have suspected you." _But I guess someone was suspecting him, this is surely the reason why he has been denied the Harrowing!_

"It is true, I admit it," Jowan sighed. "I have dabbled. And now, I offer to teach you everything I know. It is the most valuable gift I have to give. I can only pray that you are more… tolerant towards what I have to say than the others would be."

"So, in short… you propose to teach me…"

"Blood magic."

* * *

Assistance in breaking into the vault in exchange for lessons in blood magic, that was the façade of the deal Maythre had struck with Jowan. A near useless, suicidal deal for herself, especially considering that she was certain her own prowess with the forbidden school of magic long superseded whatever efforts Jowan had made. No, the point of this deal was only to make Jowan believe that she was genuinely motivated into helping him, nothing else.

Almost immediately after speaking to Jowan, she had gone to see Irving in his study. Would she really try breaking into the vault and risk everything she had worked for over so many years? A laughable thought, if she was going to enter the vault together with Jowan and Lily, it needed to appear as if she was under Irving's orders.

And indeed, the First Enchanter immediately jumped upon the chance to use Lily to get back at Greagoir and the templars. It barely took any persuasion on Maythre's part to allow her accompany Jowan, in fact, Irving insisted on it himself, before she could even suggest it. She had to be there, in order to relieve all suspicion, Irving had said. Lily would know the password to get by the first door, and all Maythre needed to do was to cast any simple spell. The second door should be bypassed by using an old Tevinter artifact to break through the vault's walls, after Jowan's idea to use a rod of fire on the conventional locks would prove laughably inadequate. Irving surmised that a suggestion to explore the rest of the basement in search for alternative methods of entrance should not appear suspicious under the circumstances.

With her protection from templar wrath secured, Maythre set to her task. She was supposed to procure the rod of fire and meet Jowan and Lily at the basement an hour after midnight. However, before that, another visit to the phylactery vault beckoned, one that Jowan or Irving needed to know nothing about. The plan, if it succeeded, and there was little reason why it shouldn't, would bring about the ultimate solution to her problem.

It was all so very simple, really. The phylactery that Jowan was going to destroy in a matter of hours would not be his. With his own blood, Jowan would buy her freedom.

* * *

_Shores of Lake Calenhad, Ferelden, Present Day_

"So, you swapped your phylactery with his," Cauthrien summarized the Queen's tale. "When you went to the vault later that night, he smashed your phylactery."

"That's quite correct," the Queen nodded, clapping her hands in small mock applause. "And the phylactery they sent to Denerim was actually Jowan's, not mine. If they ever tried to track me down with it, it wouldn't have worked."

"So you could escape at any time," Cauthrien realized. "That's what it was all about."

"Of course, for all my clever scheming, everything immediately turned upside down," Maythre said with a deep scowl. "When we emerged from the phylactery vault, we were greeted by gloating Irving, enraged Greagoir and half a dozen templars. Greagoir refused to accept the explanation that I had been acting on Irving's orders, and threatened to send me to Aeonar with the rest of them. Fortunately, Duncan was there to intervene..."

"The Grey Warden commander that recruited you?" Cauthrien asked. "I remember the man well. Loghain could not stand him, as he could not stand any Grey Warden, but yet on some level I felt he respected Duncan."

"I'm not surprised," Maythre said, feeling a pang of sorrow at the memory of Duncan's sad demise. "He was a great man."

"And Jowan somehow managed to get out of that mess with his skin intact," Cauthrien wondered.

"Yes, he surprised everyone by unleashing his blood magic, and before the templars could recover, he was long gone," Maythre replied. "For a moment there, I remember wondering if he would try to exact revenge on me after Irving had revealed that I had told him of our secret plan."

"Somehow I doubt he would have an easy time besting you."

"No, but I was glad that we didn't come to blows just then. It would have pushed me into revealing my true potential. And... I had a degree of fondness for the man, even as I used him," Maythre said with a hint of regret. "Of course, mere months later I found him imprisoned in the dungeons of Castle Redcliffe for poisoning the Arl and unleashing demons into the castle. In the end... I had to take his life. He knew things about me that nobody should know. He was a loose end that I needed to deal with."

"Of course, now nobody could challenge you even if they had this knowledge of your past," Cauthrien remarked. "Your power is too great."

"I would like to think so," the Queen smiled thinly. "But my rivals at that time certainly did not need privy to such sensitive information." She stared out across the waters, noticing a tiny silhouette breaking away from the dark shadow of the tower in the middle of the lake. "Come, let's get back to the dock," she told Cauthrien. "Our ride will be here shortly."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Vigil's Keep, Arling of Amaranthine, Present Day_

The heavy cart pulled by two horses rolled through the Keep's gates slowly, wheels spinning in the mud. The entire journey had been much like this, ever since they turned off from the solid cobblestones of the Imperial Highway and onto the narrow, muddy roads leading into the heart of the arling of Amaranthine.

True to Nathaniel's words, Riona had witnessed some spectacular sights on the trip, marveling at variety of the landscape. There had been no shortage of bountiful, lush forests, suddenly cut off by rocky, barren crags with deep ravines, looking scary and ominous, as if they might stretch all the way down to the Deep Roads. The worst of all had been the desolate, grim swamp that Nathaniel had called Blackmarsh. From the way he winced when speaking the name, Riona concluded that his memories of the place were not of the fond sort.

The journey had lasted a little over a week, just the two of them along with four Howe household guards, protecting them and the cart full of supplies, procured closely following a list compiled by the seneschal of the Keep, all sorts of valuable goods that could only be obtained in Denerim. Weather had been foul throughout the trip, as predicted in late fall, and Riona was glad to finally see the majestic sight of the keep and the village surrounding it, looking glorious and defiant as it rose before them, spreading at the side of a fir-covered mountain.

As the household quickly gathered to meet their master returning after several months of absence, Riona felt increasingly nervous, as if her unannounced arrival was an unpleasant intrusion, even if none of the surprised stares in her direction felt unwelcoming. _They must be very surprised to see their master returning home in the company of a lady,_ she thought at herself, looking at her staff at the bottom of the cart, next to the baskets with supplies. _Of course, they don't even know a half of it._

"Master Nathaniel, weren't you planning to introduce us to your lady friend?" the man asking the question was dressed in a noticeably finer clothes than the rest of the servants, and Riona concluded that the elderly man with patches of graying hair covering only his temples was likely the Keep's seneschal.

"Of course," Nathaniel said, turning back to the cart and giving Riona his hand, helping her climb down. "Lady Riona-"

"Riona Amell," she quickly interrupted him, noticing Nathaniel's surprised stare. "It is an honor to be here."

"And we are pleased to have your company, my lady," the seneschal bowed. "We shall prepare the guest quarters with haste. I must beg forgiveness in advance should something not be to your liking, as you can see, we did not expect Master Nathaniel to bring guests so your arrival has taken us by surprise."

"I'm sure everything will be just fine," Riona reassured the man. "You will soon see that I am not a picky sort."

At that moment, the sky decided to open again, interrupting any further conversation. "Master Nathaniel, you should bring the lady inside," the seneschal spoke quickly. "We will see to the supplies, don't you worry about that."

Nathaniel nodded and was about to lead Riona away when she stopped him, reaching into the cart and grabbing her mage staff, unwilling to leave it behind. Much to her relief, while there were more surprised and intrigued stares, none of them seemed hostile. _I should remember this is not Kirkwall. These people must have seen plenty of mages roaming about freely over the past few years,_ she reminded herself.

The sturdy iron-shod oaken doors of the inner keep closed behind them with a creak and then a heavy thud. "Riona Amell?" Nathaniel whispered, leaning closer so that she could feel his warm breath tickling her ear. "You could have warned me in advance."

"I'm sorry," she swiveled around to look up at him. "It was a spur of the moment thing, honest. When you were about to introduce me, I just suddenly realized that maybe someone might recognize me as the Champion of Kirkwall. And then the rumors that the Champion is staying at the Vigil's Keep might start to spread and maybe eventually reach Denerim."

"I still think you worry over nothing," Nathaniel said, sounding mildly exasperated. "But if it makes you feel safer, why not? I'm just concerned that I might get confused and spoil your little charade."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll do just fine," Riona laughed before taking Nathaniel's hand. "Come. Show me my room."

* * *

_Vigil's Keep, Two Months After_

Winter came with more and more rain that gradually turned into sleet, making the roads leading to the Keep difficult to navigate. In some places the mud was too thick for anything but a light rider atop a swift horse, but some sections of the road were completely flooded from the heavy rainfall, effectively cutting the keep from the outside world. While their supplies would last until spring if needed, the feeling of being cornered and isolated persisted. No matter how much the stoves were heated, it felt as if the chilling humidity always managed to penetrate the thick walls of the inner keep, making the nights particularly cold and miserable.

Present conditions notwithstanding, overall Riona quite enjoyed her time in the Vigil's Keep. Seneschal and the rest of the staff were pleasant and friendly enough, rugged and hard working people, hardened by this kind of life and conditions, but they treated her very well when her assurances that she was not the picky sort of noble came true. And then there was Nathaniel, of course, always a pleasant company. A week or so after their arrival in the Keep, she had told him about her relationship with Varric, and why she was in such an emotional turmoil, asking him to give her more time to deal with her feelings. Now, considerable time had passed already, and Riona marveled at how Nathaniel managed to appear so patient on the outside, willing to give her the time she needed. On some level, she was almost starting to worry that perhaps his interest in her had already waned and he was now starting to regard her simply as a friend and companion.

A few weeks ago, right before the start of all these winter storms, Nathaniel had introduced her to his sister's family, Delilah, her husband Albert and their young son. Overall, Delilah was a pleasant young woman, even if Riona could still see a few traces of haughtiness and slight pompousness from the daughter of former Arl of Denerim. What had happened after Rendon Howe's death had taught Delilah Howe plenty of humility, fate's hard lessons teaching her to feel gratitude for what little their family had left. Upon their departure, Riona had promised to visit their home in the City of Amaranthine at the earliest opportunity, but the foul weather put all such plans into disarray.

Thoughts of her sister Bethany still dominated over everything else, Flemeth's cryptic warnings and revelations not giving her much peace even if she now knew that Beth was still alive. Thedas was a massive and dangerous place, and she had no idea where to start looking for Bethany, should she feel that was the right course of action. Probably checking with her friends in Kirkwall would be the best option. Aveline would still be there, as always, Riona dearly hoping that she and Donnic had gotten through these hard times in one piece. And then there was Varric... still, often in her thoughts, but the pain of their parting seemed to have lessened somewhat, and when she thought of him now, it was with hope that he was happy and thriving back in his old life without her, working behind the scenes in Kirkwall and providing plenty of sleepless nights for the figureheads of authority.

Confined within the walls of Vigil's Keep, Riona had spent plenty of time exploring the ancient fortress. It's origins were clouded in mystery, and nobody truly seemed to know who had erected it and when, only that it had been rebuilt and expanded several times during the past centuries. This had been the holy site of Avvar tribes many centuries ago, and it was either them or some other barbarian tribe of the Fereldan's past that had first constructed a fortress here. In this massive keep with labyrinthine passages and hidden nooks and crannies every block of heavy stone oozed history, and some of the deeper dungeons were rumored to go as far below that they emptied into the Deep Roads. The seneschal was certain that all those exits were secured and impenetrable, but the very thought of darkspawn possibly lurking right underneath felt strangely thrilling to Riona.

Her sleeping patterns often remained as messed up as back in Kirkwall, and there were plenty of nights where being unable to sleep, she would get dressed to stalk the dark corridors, sometimes bumping her head on the low ceilings, until she would find some old spider-web covered chamber that nobody had visited in weeks. She would then light the stove and settle in somewhere in an old cushy chair or spread a thick woolen blanket on the creaking floor tiles, stuff a pillow under her belly and flip open yet another dusty tome and become engrossed in reading until the morning came and a hapless servant stumbled onto her to get a small fright, or Nathaniel came searching for her, usually led by Spot, sniffing out his wayward mistress.

The keep's staff got used to her odd habits quite quickly, not seeming too perturbed by them. They probably expected a mage to have some strange eccentricities, and were likely relieved that hers weren't something much worse, like drinking the blood of male virgins or dancing naked under the moonlight. _No, come to think of it, they probably would have liked that last bit_, Riona decided, laughing inwardly. _Nathaniel probably wouldn't mind that either. This stalking around during nights just amuses him._

And then there were of course the books. Hundreds, thousands of lovely books, great halls filled with shelves full of old tomes that seemed to literally call out to her, pleading to be read by the appreciative eyes of an eager mage. Oh, there were no books on magic itself, naturally, but Riona was not after any hidden rituals of ancient Avvars. There was something else she had become increasingly interested in, ever since she had gotten insights into Flemeth's meddling. History of Ferelden, ancient and more recent, everything was of interest to her, and there were several shelves with books devoted only to this topic. Day after day, night after night, she perused one tome after another, knowing full well that it might take years to browse through them all, with no guaranteed success.

_Not that Nathaniel would stand for me just hanging around here for years, reading. Not that I would blame him,_ Riona thought at herself, realizing that she had been far too distant towards Nathaniel lately, her irritating habits of getting up in late afternoon not really helping them to spend much time together. _I'm not really sure why I'm keeping him at bay anymore. I mean... I've admitted to myself that I like him. A lot. I should just come out and tell him that I'm ready to be with him. I... think I am. Ummm..._ she silently cursed at herself, setting the book aside, her concentration broken. _Damn it, this is like Kirkwall all over again. Be decisive, Riona, be decisive!_

With her reading disrupted, she put the book away and set to stalk the narrow hallways again, returning to her cold and dark sleeping chambers. Much to her dismay, she found her usually loyal mabari sleeping on the floor with his side pressed against the stove, still slightly warm even if the fire had died several hours ago. "Spot!" she admonished the yawning hound, giving her a lazy stare as she woke him. "I told you to sleep in my bed, on top of the blankets and keep them warm for me! But no, you just couldn't resist the lure of the cozy warm stove, you traitor!"

Spot merely reared his head, gave her an amused stare and then settled his head back on the front paws, giving a quiet guttural growl that almost sounded like he was snickering. Riona walked up to her bed and sat down on the blankets, running her hand along the cold and clammy linens, feeling repulsed by the thought of undressing and climbing under them. The idea of sleeping fully dressed entered her mind, but was quickly disregarded as too unpleasant.

She fell back in the bed, resting on top of the blankets for the moment, staring at the ceiling, feeling strangely tense for no apparent reason. A distant memory came of an evening in Kirkwall, not long after her mother's death, when she had felt as restless as now, eventually running out into the streets and towards the estate of Danarius, before turning around and eventually finding solace in Varric's arms at the Hanged Man. She got up from the bed, starting to pace around, ignoring Spot's reproachful glares at interrupting his slumber.

_I'll just check, maybe he's not sleeping either,_ she suddenly decided, pulling open the doors of her room with so much force she almost smacked herself in the face with the hard edge. _Worst case scenario, we'll end up talking the entire night. Beats getting frozen stiff and bored here._

Much to her surprise, there was a flicker of light falling through the gap under the doors to Nathaniel's room. _That's interesting, I wonder what he's doing up at this hour,_ she wondered, knocking and then swiftly entering at the same time as she heard Nathaniel's voice telling her to come in. She found him dressed in a light tunic he had been sleeping in, dropped on his knees and feeding logs of birch wood to a roaring stove. "You're far less lazy than I am," she chuckled, looking in his surprised face. "I was freezing to death but couldn't be bothered to get the stove going again."

"You know, that doesn't make a lot of sense," Nathaniel shook his head with mild exasperation. "You've been crawling around the keep and spooking servants again, I take it?"

"Only a little bit," Riona laughed, coming over to the stove where Nathaniel was busy working with the iron poker, sorting the logs to get the fire really going. She pressed against the stove with her back, feeling the pleasant warmth spreading through her body. "Mmmm, this is so nice..." she sighed contently.

"There are certain advantages to not freezing to death," Nathaniel commented dryly, as Riona slowly pushed away from the stove and walked over to sit on his bed. She ran her hand over and beneath the blankets, feeling the warmth of the body heat, much more pleasant than the clammy, almost moist bedclothes in her own room.

"Stupid dog didn't keep my bed warm while I was sneaking around," she said in an exaggeratedly accusing tone. "He usually listens and keeps the blankets nice and pleasant while I'm gone. It's quite amazing how much heat a mabari can generate."

"Don't tell me you actually take him to bed with you," Nathaniel chuckled, dropping the last few logs into the roaring fires.

"Ugh, no way, he's just my big hot water bottle," Riona replied. The warm bed suddenly felt so inviting and alluring, so while Nathaniel's back was turned towards her, she nimbly slipped under the blankets and settled in comfortably, resting her head on the big fluffy pillow. "Hey, that's not fair, your pillows are softer than the ones they gave me," she mock-complained.

Nathaniel turned around, but if he was surprised to see her under the blankets in his bed, his face didn't show it. "I will see the servants properly chastised about the issue tomorrow," he said solemnly, but the smile on his lips betrayed him. He finished fiddling with the stove and rose, coming back towards the bed but stepping halfway there. "So. You are in my bed."

Riona nodded happily. "Feeling all cozy and warm."

"There's just one thing," Nathaniel stared at her. "Where does that leave me?"

"Well, I'm just taking up this one side of the bed," Riona replied with a flippant grin. "You're welcome to occupy the other side."

"The cold one," Nathaniel said miserably. "Truly, you are too generous, my lady."

"I know!" Riona exclaimed, grinning ear to ear as she watched Nathaniel settle under the blankets, keeping respectable distance from her.

For a while neither said a thing, until Riona rolled around in the bed to face him, finding Nathaniel staring at her. "So..." he started, a little hesitantly. "Is that a habit of yours?"

"What is?" she asked.

"Sleeping fully clothed," he said, very slight blush creeping into his cheeks.

"Only when I sneak in to steal the warm side of the bed from a respectable lord of the estate," Riona replied, struggling not to giggle.

"Well, if I am considered to be respectable, then you don't have to fear me taking advantage of you," Nathaniel remarked without missing a beat.

"True enough..." Riona admitted. "Maybe I'm just not feeling warm enough yet to take my clothes off..." she then added teasingly.

Nathaniel's stare intensified, and he swallowed hard before replying. "The stove is slowly getting very hot."

"I'm sure it is," Riona grinned. "That is, if you want to wait..."

Something happened at that very moment when she said those words. It seemed like the tension in the room rose to unbearable levels, but then was quickly broken in one swift motion as Nathaniel reached towards her and she felt herself almost lunging towards him, and they clashed in the middle of the bed in a sudden, passionate kiss. Nathaniel pulled her tightly against her, gently rolling on top of her, continuing to kiss her, and she felt herself responding with such lust and ferocity that it surprised even herself.

As they kissed, her hands started to find their way onto Nathaniel's back, under his tunic, urgently trying to slip it off, enjoying the feel of his strong, taut muscles. Heat seemed to spread out from her centre, passing all throughout her, turning into a powerful blaze, and she now desperately longed for him to run his hands across her heated skin the way she caressed his back.

Nathaniel must have sensed her frustration, for he pulled away, looking into her eyes. "Feeling warm enough now?" he asked, chuckling at the way she growled at him, making a move to bite him. With some effort, her robes and the rest of her garments finally came off, kicked and discarded randomly as Nathaniel pulled her back into his embrace, and she yielded with a delighted sigh of feeling his body against hers, finally skin against skin, with no irritating obstructions in the way.

She kicked the blankets away completely when the heat was starting to grow even higher, Nathaniel's hand caressing her breasts before moving down to her stomach, and then even lower, his fingers stroking the fire in her to a flame that threatened to consume her. With an impatient growl, she pushed him away and onto his back in the bed, before straddling him and leaning down to exchange a few more passionate kisses before straightening up to sit astride over his hips. The openly worshipping stare with which Nathaniel admired her naked body was making Riona's head spin with even more lust and desire, if such was even possible to feel. A look passed between them, before he nodded and she started to rock her hips against his, crying out in pleasure as she did so.

When she fell against his chest undeterminable time after, tired, soaked with perspiration, but indescribably happy, there was only one coherent thought left on her mind. _I think I'm in love,_ she mused, nuzzling against Nathaniel's chest, feeling his hands holding her tight and safe. _Yes. Definitely in love._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Vigil's Keep, Arling of Amaranthine, Present Day_

Spring came without much improvement in the weather, rainy and windy, the coastal storms forcing their way far enough inland to reach the Keep, but fortunately losing worst of their bite during the travel. Sunny days were few and far between, but at least they started to appear now and then, and Nathaniel was often apologizing to Riona about the dreadful weather of the past season, as if it was somehow his fault.

Their relationship had been progressing smoothly and naturally, without either of them having to adjust much about their daily routines. The guest chambers stood unused since their very first night together, Riona basically invading Nathaniel's quarters without them ever having a need to discuss it. And somehow it didn't seem Nathaniel was going to complain about the company.

Some early ground rules had been established regarding Spot, who had simply assumed he would come and go as he pleased about their bedroom. Riona clearly had different ideas about having a canine spectator, and Spot was unpleasantly surprised to find himself staring at the closed doors from the outside, having to settle for a shuteye on a thick woolen rug on the doorstep. After a week of pitiful whining outside the door, he had finally accepted the inevitable and stopped complaining.

Riona was still spending most of her time reading through the collection of tomes on Ferelden's history, but on the days when the weather allowed it, she and Nathaniel saddled horses and rode around the countryside. Nathaniel was anxious to see the state of his lands following the harsh winter, finding many of the fields in the valleys still completely flooded. He made sure to show Riona some of the more impressive sights, like the majestic and tranquil Wending Wood, and the frightening, barren looking Knotwood Hills, with the looming dark caves leading deep underground, and according to Nathaniel, stretching far enough to reach the Deep Roads. Riona made a note to stay away from anything that had to do with the Deep Roads and darkspawn, not eager for a repeat of her experiences with Bartrand's expedition.

Twice they had visited the City of Amaranthine itself, Riona finding it smaller than she had expected, in truth it was just a very large fishing village, grown and spread around the local Chantry. Still, for its unremarkable size and scarce population, the city was well fortified, Nathaniel explaining that the already high and thick walls had been reinforced even further after the darkspawn attack seven years ago. There was a certain rugged charm about the city and Riona rather enjoyed her visits there, especially when they took their time to visit Delilah and her family.

This day was shaping up to be one of the more tolerable ones weather-wise. The sun was still hiding behind the clouds, pale and indifferent, but at least it was not raining and the wind had died down after its howling had kept them up for a large part of last night. _Fortunately we found ways to pass the time,_ Riona thought to herself, standing with her back against a wooden pillar near the forge and watching Nathaniel work, a hobby of his that he often indulged in while she busied herself with her research of dusty tomes.

Watching the ripples of his muscles as he smoothly worked the blacksmith's hammer with years of practiced ease brought the memories of last night at the forefront of her mind, remembering the way his strong hands had held her tight as her nails dug deep into his back, the way his mouth had closed over hers, silencing her cries with kisses when the pleasure had crested beyond the threshold of what she could tolerate. The memory alone made her mouth become dry and heartbeat increase, especially when Nathaniel suddenly turned around to find her rather blatantly devouring him with her eyes. His knowing grin made her blush heavily, but she never averted her eyes.

"So what do you think?" he asked, looking greatly amused at her blushing and attempts to gather her bearings.

"...sorry, what?" was all she finally managed in the end.

"I gather you didn't hear any of what I just asked," Nathaniel chuckled, shaking his head. "You've been rather distracted lately, I must say."

"I would blame you, but you'll just become even more insufferably smug if I do that," Riona laughed in reply. _Right, Riona, try to focus a bit now, you're acting like a foolish young love-struck girl, _she mentally berated herself. _Though it is kind of fun..._

"Insufferably smug, I am never acting smug," Nathaniel replied. "Anyway, the seneschal told me that he had spotted a clan of Chasind wilders setting camp on the outskirts of our lands. He took some of the men and paid them a visit."

"They're not hostile, I hope?" Riona asked, feeling a little concerned. The old wives in Lothering used to scare them with tales of the barbaric wilder folk, back when she was very young.

"No, it's a clan well known to us. They have suffered from the harsh winter and expressed an interest to trade. The weather seems nice, I was thinking of taking some of the guards and the supplies they asked for and heading out to meet them."

"I'd like to come along, if you don't mind," Riona quickly offered. "I'm sure the tales of their barbarism are exaggerated, but perhaps you would still appreciate the protection of a mage."

"I've never had a bodyguard, this should be interesting," Nathaniel winked at her.

"Well, I have a vested interest in keeping a certain body safe and intact," Riona joked in reply, even if she knew she wasn't telling Nathaniel all the reasons why she wanted to meet the Chasind. Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds, was frequently associated with the Wilder folk. Someone among the clan would surely know stories and legends about Flemeth, and Riona was determined to make them share those stories, her heart almost skipping in anticipation.

"In that case, start preparing for the trip," Nathaniel said, setting the blacksmith hammer aside and taking off the dirty leather apron. "We leave in an hour."

* * *

_Val Chevin, Orlais, Present Day_

The escape from the Grey Warden prison in Wimmark Wastes hadn't been without its challenges. Bethany had managed to convince Varric to lie on her behalf, fooling Aveline and Cullen into thinking that she would catch up with them along the way, but it was never her intention to follow the others back to Kirkwall. She had liberated supplies from the dead Carta dwarves in the upper levels of the fortress, stocking up on water and provisions, before stealthily sneaking out and hurrying westwards, praying that Cullen and Aveline wouldn't trash Varric too badly when he revealed that Bethany did not plan on coming with them.

It had taken her two long days to get out of the scorching heat of the desert-like plains, reaching the edge of magnificent lush woods, the Planasene Forest. She followed the narrow road, spinning around the sparse edge of the forest, always making sure to seek cover whenever she heard someone approaching her on the road, not that there were many travelers braving the seldom used path. Still, the robes and the Hawke's Key on her back obviously betrayed her as a mage, and most people reacted to her kin violently. And those who did not identify her as mage, might have looked at her as a beautiful, young woman, traveling alone and without protection, starting to entertain dangerous thoughts. It simply was safer for her to hide until she reached a larger city and could blend in with the crowds.

Small farming villages started to appear as she left the forest behind on the approach to Cumberland. During one night, she sneaked into one such village and stole a bunch of simple clothes, leaving a generous donation of sovereigns behind, together with a note of apology. While on the road, she would still wear her enchanted robes and held her staff at the ready, but as she approached a town, she sought out some secluded place to change clothes and leave her staff behind as she made a trip into town, purchased food or clothing, or simply rented a room in a local inn, growing tired of sleeping in stacks of hay in random barns, or simply feeling an increasing need for a hot bath.

She had given a thought of remaining in Cumberland as soon as she saw the impressive city with its tall spires and grand palaces, the olive-skinned, passionate and outspoken inhabitants of the city appearing friendly and welcoming. In the end, she had decided to move on, even if the geographic location of Cumberland, on the border of Orlais and Nevarra, was almost perfect for her plans. However, Cumberland played host to a tumultuous Circle of Magi, in fact it was the seat of the Grand Enchantress Fiona, a woman always seeking to pick a fight with the Chantry and templars, and after what had happened in Kirkwall, the atmosphere in the city painfully reminded Bethany too much of the City of Chains. After a few days of stay she packed her bags and moved on, deeper into the territory of Orlais, towards the city of Val Chevin.

Val Chevin was a typical Orlesian city, in that it sacrificed everything so that a small part of the noble occupied district could look splendorous an glorious at the expense of the rest of the city drowning in waste and piles of excrements. It was small, provincial, and yet its leading noble houses considered themselves to be as culturally advanced and educated as the elite of Val Royeaux, happily engaging in the deadly Game, backstabbing each other in the glamorous parties that took place every night without exception.

At first Bethany was a little worried about the fact that the city itself was quite some ways off the Imperial Highway, leading towards Cumberland and Nevarra. However, her fears were allayed quickly, when she realized that in Orlais, nobody actually used the old Imperium roads, allowing them to fall into disrepair out of spite and superstition. Of course, the Orlesians failed at constructing any meaningful roads of their own, the muddy paths becoming almost impassable from late Fall, yet apparently it was still better than anything constructed by the Imperium of Evil. So, anyone traveling from Orlais to Nevarra would still be passing through Val Chevin, which was all that Bethany needed to know.

The next part of her plan was to find herself some kind of occupation to legitimize her stay in the city, stay that could take up to months if not a year or more. She looked up several tailoring and alchemy shops, but nobody seemed too keen on hiring a foreigner, not even wanting to discuss her skills. The noble houses often needed new staff, but Bethany was less keen on such a job, only starting to look into it after other options had been exhausted. And even so, after a month of trying, Bethany was still out of luck, her stash of gold sovereigns slowly growing smaller and smaller, forcing her into considering drastic action that she was loathe to take.

_I wouldn't do this, unless I were desperate,_ she tried to reassure herself, recalling the basics of the blood magic spell she had copied from Merrill's notes. _Besides, it's for the greater good,_ she told herself mentally, pulling on the invisible strings, compelling the head chef in the kitchens of the House Arland into giving her a position as one of his apprentices. Bethany was fairly skilled and made an effort of staying out of everyone's way in order to avoid attention, simply focusing on doing her job the best she could. It seemed as if the entire staff of servants and cooks played their own version of the Orlesian Grand Game, seeking to continuously undermine, betray and backstab each other in order to advance from a very meaningless social status to only slightly less meaningless one.

Bethany made sure not to get dragged into any of this. The other female staff desperately tried to always look their best, wearing heavy makeup and elaborate hairstyles, seeking to trump each other as much as their noble masters did. Bethany kept her beautiful long hair tied together in a simple bun, not wearing any makeup at all, trying to appear insignificant, a tiny grey mouse beyond anyone's notice. So far she was doing a good job, and everyone around her dismissed her as the weird foreigner who had no appreciation for their unsurpassable and superior way of life.

With her job settled, she finally moved out of the inn she had been staying at and rented out a room in one of the less smelly middle-class districts and immediately wrote to Varric, inquiring about the events in Kirkwall, finally being able to give a return address, looking forward to his reply. While she waited, Bethany made sure to work on the next part of her plan, which basically involved visiting the Chantry every evening and praying diligently, hoping that her piousness would be noticed by one of the Chantry mothers.

It took several months, but eventually she had managed to gain friendship of some of the sisters, attracted by her genuine smile and warmth, timid and subservient appearance that she always displayed for the occasion. She spent hour after hour every evening, discussing the Chant of Light, life in the Chantry, her new friends always prodding her to tell about her own adventures, and she needed to be careful and mentally edit out all the unacceptable bits. Bethany almost had to chuckle inwardly, hearing their pleas to join them as one of the lay sisters, an invitation by now supported by several of the Chantry mothers. _What would they say if they knew that by their own definition I am a maleficar,_ she thought, feeling amused.

Finally she had gained the amount of trust needed to advance her plan to the next stage. The Grand Plan, as she referred to it almost jokingly, was actually not much of plan as such, more like a spontaneous idea likely triggered by the heavy feelings of guilt she still felt since the destruction of Kirkwall's Chantry. _I have accepted that Anders killed all those people. But I cannot just deny my involvement in the whole thing. I must make amends for it, make amends to the Chantry and Maker._

And then there were the discoveries made in the Grey Warden's ancient prison. The Tevinter amulet she had picked from the remains of Corypheus was always close to her heart, both as proof to validate her story, but also as a heavy burden and remainder of her guilt. Bethany was a bright girl and saw clearly that Chantry was much to blame for its treatment of the mages, and their current situation. And the Chantry had likely also been responsible for covering up some unpleasant truths about what had happened in the past, with Corypheus and Emerius, her own ancestor.

All of this had shaken her own faith, not so much in the Maker, but more in the Chantry itself. _But I cannot simply follow those Libertarians who would rather watch everyone around them burn for the sake of their freedom. I cannot have more blood on my hands than I already have,_ she had thought resolutely. _If there is something wrong with the Chantry, perhaps it needs to be changed. If there is corruption within the Chantry, then it needs to be rooted out. I can't do it alone. But... isn't there a whole organization devoted to do just that?_

She remembered the meeting with Cassandra Pentaghast back in the Chantry of Kirkwall. The Nevarran woman had been stern, courageous and firm in her beliefs, but she had never appeared to be a mindless zealot. As Bethany understood, these Seekers of Truth she represented, answered directly to the Divine in Val Royeaux, one of their tasks to seek and root out corruption amongst the Chantry and its templars. If anyone in the Chantry would be willing to listen and believe her wild story, Bethany felt it would only be one of these Seekers. And Cassandra was the only one she knew of, hence this long-shot plan, figuring that the Nevarran would often travel between Val Royeaux and her homeland, depending on Cassandra sooner or later making a stop at one of the Chantries along the way.

Couple of weeks ago, she had finally entrusted one of the mothers with her need to meet one of the Seekers. At first the woman had been a little suspicious, the knowledge of Seekers was not common after all, the effectiveness of their little order highly depending on secrecy. Bethany had been ready to put blood magic to use and ensure cooperation of the Chantry mother, but the woman was eventually won over by pure curiosity about Bethany's reasons for wanting to meet a Seeker. The Chantry mother promised Bethany to send word as soon as Cassandra appeared in Val Chevin, as long as Bethany fulfilled her end of the bargain and told her the whole truth after her meeting with the Seeker.

Now, with the bait set, waiting was all that was left to do. News of Cassandra did not come, but a few days ago she had received Varric's reply to her letter, reading it with her hands trembling as she held the parchment.

Varric was expectedly curt when writing about himself, insisting he was absolutely fine and his life had settled back into the old rails. He expressed concern for Riona, having been unable to track her down on the Wounded Coast, and then not finding any signs of her ever appearing at Ostwick. Bethany was paralyzed with fear for her sister's life from these news, even if Varric tried to reassure her that Riona was perfectly capable at taking care of herself. He wrote of putting his far reaching network of spies covering almost all of Thedas to work on finding her, something that reassured Bethany slightly.

Aveline was still busy restoring order to Kirkwall, her task made slightly easier by the Cumberland mages sealing the rifts in the Veil, preventing any more demons from pouring through and slaughtering the already thinned out population. It seemed that changes were coming to the city's leadership as well, former seneschal Bran lured out of retirement with an offer to become the ruling viscount of the city.

As Bethany had feared, Knight-Commander Cullen had simply disappeared from Kirkwall on one dark winter night. The rest of the templars were gone soon afterwards, and the official word from the Chantry representatives was that with the Kirkwall Circle of Magi and Chantry both literally annihilated, there was nothing for them to do in the City of Chains, the remaining templars, mages and Chantry folk recalled to Cumberland. While fearing the worst, in her return letter Bethany asked Varric to check if Cullen had arrived in Cumberland with the others, though in her heart she felt she knew the answer already. _I had a feeling that something changed him in that dreadful prison,_ she thought to herself. _I feared one of them had fallen under Corypheus's evil spell, and now it seems that it was Cullen all along. Poor man, he seemed so fond of me too..._

And lastly, the news she feared the most. The one she loved was still missing. _It's like she has fallen off the face of Thedas, Sunshine,_ Varric wrote. _My spies are searching and searching, but they cannot find a trace of her. I'm so sorry._

"Oh Merrill..." Bethany sighed, hugging herself tightly under the blankets, staring at the starry sky outside the tiny window, wishing those were Merrill's gentle, nimble hands caressing her body, making her lose herself in dreams full of longing and desire. "Where are you, Merrill... please, oh please... come back to me..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Kinloch Hold, Ferelden, Present Day_

So far Cauthrien did not like what she had seen in the former Circle Tower. The ancient spire was teeming with life, when by all accounts it should have been abandoned by now. Instead of gathering dust the floors saw busy traffic, heavy armored dwarven guards standing like frozen statues at their posts, giving her warning stares as she passed on her way, wondering what was going on in this place.

She was astounded to see so many Tranquil here, she had thought that Maythre would have done something for those still left in the Circle at the time of its dissolution, feeling pity for the victims of that horrible practice of which she had in the past often spoken with great disdain. And yet the Tranquil still were here, marching around determinedly, some carrying crates with magical trinkets and weaponry.

Cauthrien had also seen several non-Tranquil, but she was not certain of their purpose here, men of indiscreet appearance, going through stacks of rings, amulets and chests with enchanted weapons and shields, cataloguing everything. It almost seemed as if they were preparing these valuable goods for transportation, some sort of shipment to unknown destination.

Not knowing what to make of it all, with more and more questions on her mind, Cauthrien looked at the stairs leading up to the higher levels of the tower. Maythre had told her to meet her in the Harrowing chamber in two hours, and that time had nearly arrived. With heavy heart she started to climb the steps, wondering why the Queen had chosen the hall with such grim history for their meeting. Of course, it was no longer used for that despicable templar test, but still, it seemed like an odd choice. The fact that Maythre had taken the three imprisoned mages with her to the Harrowing chamber was even more worrisome.

The scene that appeared before her as she entered the hall was... unsettling, to say the least. Maythre's guards stood around the chamber in a loose circle, two of the captive mages standing between them, but they looked somehow... different. Maythre herself sat on the floor in the middle of the chamber, right in front of the third mage, both of them appearing in a sort of trance, as if sleeping. Cauthrien stood and watched, until suddenly the captive mage broke off his trance-like state with an anguished scream, falling back and collapsing like dead.

Cauthrien jumped, startled, rushing forward to see to the fallen mage, but at that point, Maythre also came to, shaking her head to clear it, then gingerly rising from the floor. "Oh, I do so hate to do this," she muttered angrily, before noticing Cauthrien. "So I suppose you saw that," the Queen noted, pointing at the fallen man.

"What did you do to him?" Cauthrien asked. "Really, if you planned to torture and kill them, you only needed to take them as far as Fort Drakon."

"I do not plan to kill them," Maythre replied, sounding irritated. "Open your eyes and look closely."

The man was slowly starting to regain his consciousness, struggling to get up from the floor and Cauthrien extended a helping hand to pull the mage back up to his feet. But when the man looked in her face, she almost yelped and withdrew quickly, momentarily shocked by the lack of all emotion in his dead eyes. "By the Maker..." she gasped. "He's..."

"He is Tranquil, yes," Maythre said harshly. "And so are the other two. And they are not the only ones I've made Tranquil this year, and they won't be the last."

"But... but how? Why?" Cauthrien struggled to comprehend.

"You wanted to know where our wealth was coming from, didn't you?" Maythre said, almost mockingly. "What could provide more wealth than trade of magical trinkets and enchanted weaponry? Such goods will always be in great demand, especially of the quality by our Formari crafters. Not only did I keep all the Tranquil of the Circle here, I have added at least forty more in the past few years to increase the amount of goods we can produce."

As Cauthrien stared at the Queen with her mouth flapping open from shock, Maythre continued to talk proudly. "Bhelen's dwarves are our best consumers, the dear boy always has a war to wage, and if there are no political rivals to eliminate, there will always be darkspawn to fight in the Deep Roads, and as such constant demand for our produce. We have trading posts in Nevarra, Free Marches and as far as Rivain, and we've started to sell our weapons in Orlais as well, of course behind the front of a local merchant, those fools would never buy something they knew was made in Ferelden."

Cauthrien slumped to her knees. "...how do you even know the Rite of Tranquility?" she managed. "I thought it was a secret, closely guarded by the templars and the Chantry..."

Maythre shrugged. "I don't know if what I'm doing is the Rite of Tranquility. I simply join with my victims beyond the Veil and then sever their connection to the Fade, along with all their capacity for emotion to make them obedient," she said simply. "It does sound like what the templars were doing, doesn't it? A brutal, efficient way to destroy someone's mind."

"You... you were right," Cauthrien said. "I wish I hadn't asked. I wish I would not know any of this."

"You're not going to explode with righteous indignation over this, will you Cauthrien?" Maythre stared at her harshly. "Think of everything you have done yourself before you say anything."

"But... to do this?" Cauthrien shook her head. "Isn't this a practice you despised yourself? I was disturbed when you crafted Hawke's phylactery, because I could not believe you would use templar methods, and yet here we are... this is... all wrong."

"Don't be ridiculous," Maythre snapped. "Each and every of those mages I made Tranquil deserved it. I made my rules clear, they knew perfectly well what they should not do if they valued their freedom. They broke the law, they paid for it."

"What would they say if they knew that this would be their punishment?" Cauthrien asked. "Don't you see? You have become that which you despise! You have become... like a templar!"

There was a barely perceptible flick of the Queen's hand, and Cauthrien suddenly felt an invisible hand gripping her throat, choking her and threatening to crush her windpipe. "Don't you dare comparing me to a templar!" Maythre exclaimed angrily. "I am disappointed in you, Cauthrien. When I said that I would do 'anything' to rule this land, I literally did mean that. If this is what it takes to keep my hold on the throne, then so be it! And you agreed with me. What will it be then, will you turn on me like so many others have?"

Cauthrien felt the pressure on her throat lessening, allowing her to speak. "You... you know that... I can't hurt you..." she wheezed. "Your own enchant-... -ments, protect you..."

Maythre flashed a feral grin. "Indeed, you cannot harm me. But there are more choices before you, and my magic no longer compels you to stand with me," she said. "I could break your mind completely, and make you like one of these Tranquil, but I do not wish to do that. Do you know why?" Cauthrien shook her head mutely. "Because I still hope that you will choose to follow me on your own volition. That you will agree with me when I say that what I have done here was the best for Ferelden and its people!"

"The chances of that... are slim," Cauthrien managed, slowly rising from the ground.

"You may wish to reconsider that stance before we speak again," Maythre said coldly, stepping closer. Cauthrien felt a painful jolt streaking through her body as the Queen moved her hands in arcane patterns, her lips whispering an incantation and Cauthrien found herself lifted from the ground and flung across the hall, knocking her head painfully against the heavy doors. "Now get out of my sight," the Queen commanded, speaking angrily. "Go, and deliberate upon your choices... obedience or death!"

* * *

_Vigil's Keep, Arling of Amaranthine, Present Day_

On the evening of the next day after her first visit to the Chasind, Riona found herself lying on her belly in Nathaniel's bed, poking her nose in yet another tome, even as her thoughts still lingered on her meetings with the wilder folk. She had managed to find a book that had some of the Chasind legends, but not the ones about Flemeth, so cross-examining the tales that she had heard from the clan's shaman with other records appeared impossible.

"The guards tell me you went to visit the Chasind today as well," she had somehow managed to miss Nathaniel entering the room, but she could not ignore the sound of his voice.

"Yes, sorry for not leaving you a message, that was dumb. I guess you were worried," Riona replied, not taking her eyes away from her reading.

"Well, maybe just a little bit, I know you can take care of yourself," Nathaniel said. "Still, you should treat the Chasind carefully. There have been reports of them taking women from the surrounding farmlands when there aren't enough fertile women amongst the clan for their men coming of age to marry. And they were certainly swarming you yesterday."

_Only because I revealed to them that I have met the Witch of the Wilds,_ Riona thought. _It was the only way to get them to share the tales._ "Oh, don't worry, they were perfectly polite," she tried to reassure Nathaniel. "No lustful stares in my direction were detected."

"To be honest, you can sometimes be a bit oblivious," Nathaniel chuckled, starting to undress before joining her in the bed.

"I should feel insulted right about now," Riona said, grinning broadly. Nathaniel settled in with a book of his own, and fell silent soon afterwards, allowing her to return to her thoughts and musings.

The legend that the shaman told her was not quite what she had expected, and parts of it did not mesh well at all with her own experiences with Flemeth. But this legend had been likely passed down mouth to mouth for countless times over the centuries, changing with each retelling. Who could tell what the original version of the story was, and was it even close to the truth? Was anything from it true, or was it all merely a fantasy?

The beginning of the legend certainly seemed to Riona to be purely fiction. The tale of the wealthy Bann taking in beautiful young wife, who fell in love with a poor traveling poet, it was so melodramatic and tacky that Riona did not believe a word of it. The beautiful bride, presumably Flemeth, saw her poet love slaughtered by the Bann and in her grief she turned to demons to grant her vengeance. The demon was said to have possessed Flemeth, turning her into an abomination who slaughtered the evil Bann Conobar and his men and then fled into the Wilds.

There were some issues with this part of the tale, the tacky drama notwithstanding. If the demon had indeed turned Flemeth into an abomination, she would have remained a gargling, snarling brainless monstrosity. How would this innocent young woman from the tale have eventually reversed the possession, mastering the demon and regaining her human appearance? Even more so, how would she have learned the art of shifting her shape into that of a High Dragon? No... Riona was more than certain that Flemeth was not purely human, and hadn't been truly human to start with. This melodramatic start of the legend was purely the wilder's way of trying to explain something for which they had no explanation of, namely the origins of Flemeth.

The next part of the legend made a lot more sense. After Flemeth had fled to the Wilds, she started the habit of stealing men from the Chasind in order to sire monstrous daughters, raising them crafty, heartless and cunning in her image, and the Chasind feared them as much as they feared Flemeth herself. Riona knew this to be true, Morrigan was a living example of it, and if her theory was correct, Maythre was another daughter of Flemeth. The Chasind legend also said that Flemeth had a falling out with her daughters and chased each of them down, cutting them open and gorging herself on their still beating hearts.

Unpleasant imagery aside, Riona wasn't sure she believed this gruesome part. What would Flemeth stand to gain from such act? She knew that Morrigan had feared becoming possessed by Flemeth when the old Witch would need to swap her aging body for a more youthful one. Perhaps the part about Flemeth slaughtering her daughters was merely the Chasind way to attempt and explain why Flemeth's daughters always ended up disappearing one by one? When the truth was that they simply became possessed by Flemeth, one after another... yes, that made a lot more sense.

And then there was yet another part of the legend that made little sense to Riona. At some point many centuries ago, the shaman had told her, Flemeth had raised great armies of barbarians under her banner, pouring out of the Korcari Wilds to wage war on the Alamarri tribes in the North. For many years Flemeth had lead her armies, sowing chaos and destruction on the lands, until she was finally defeated by a mighty hero called Cormac and burned at stake, but even now the Wilders still whispered that Flemeth still lives on in the marsh... obviously, this last part of the tale was intended to be mysterious and scary, but Riona had already ruined it from the start by proclaiming that she had indeed met the Witch of the Wilds several years ago at Lothering, and the old maleficar had been very much alive and kicking.

This whole story just seemed very odd to Riona. It just didn't seem like Flemeth's style to lead armies and wage wars. She was the subtle puppet master behind the strings. _But was she always like that?_

Riona's thoughts were briefly distracted as Nathaniel set his book aside and turned towards her. "You seem particularly captivated by that old tome," he remarked, making an effort to sound jealous and neglected.

"I'm not actually reading it, I'm thinking back on the visit to the Chasind," Riona confessed. "And also, trying to keep my back straight, it's still a bit sore from too much riding. I swear, I just can't get used to that horse."

"I know just how to help with that," Nathaniel said, rising to sit next to her in the bed. Riona felt the blanket slipping down from her shoulders and Nathaniel's warm hands starting to expertly rub her neck and shoulders, making her relax with a content sigh. "By the way, you never actually told me what you went to the Chasind for," he added, continuing the back massage.

"Just curious about their old legends, really. No reason, I'm just nosy and inquisitive like that," Riona replied, starting to feel increasingly warm from Nathaniel's touch. "Especially the ones about Flemeth, Witch of the Wilds, interest me greatly."

"Don't tell me she's more than simply a legend," Nathaniel's voice held an edge of disbelief.

"Oh, she's plenty real alright," Riona chuckled in reply. "I've met her a few times myself. Honestly! That's why I'm so curious about her. The Wilder folk fear her greatly, but at least I learned some interesting things."

"Like what?" Nathaniel asked.

"Well, I didn't know that Flemeth once lead an army of Chasind barbarians to wage a war in the North," Riona said. "That caught me by surprise. I just can't figure out why she would do that. And I can't find any historical records of such wars actually taking place."

"Perhaps she was inspired by Andraste and her deeds, leading hordes of barbarians to challenge the Magisters," Nathaniel remarked jokingly, bending down and placing a quick kiss on Riona's neck that sent tremors throughout her.

"Ha, don't be ridic-" Riona laughed in reply, but then fell silent as Nathaniel's hands slipped off her back and then onto her belly. She felt her nipples stiffening as his hands moved up towards her breasts. "Oh my," she gasped as he resumed heated kisses along her neck.

Whatever research she had planned, would have to wait until morning.

* * *

Few more days passed. The Chasind had packed and left, road taking them back to the deeper forests at the arling's heart, Riona failing to learn any more interesting legends from the wise shamans of the clan. Most of what she had discovered she had already known before, and the other part seemed pure fiction. Except the part about Flemeth and her armies. Riona still didn't know what to make of that.

For some reason, she also had difficulties erasing Nathaniel's joking little aside, comparing Flemeth to Andraste's conquests. Riona found the entire analogy simply beyond ludicrous, but she still kept thinking about it. And the more she thought, the more she had to admit that even if there were a lot of discrepancies, there were also some things that were curiously similar.

Flemeth was told to have led armies of Chasind barbarians, Andraste's armies were made of the Alamarri tribes. As it said in the History of Ferelden by Brother Genitivi, _'When the Alamarri first passed into Ferelden from the distant west, some moved into the swampy forest vastness and the tundra beyond it to the south now known as the Korcari Wilds. These folk became known as the Chasind Wilders, a strange twisted people plagued by dark desires.'_

In the end, the Chasind were also part of the Alamarri people, or at least had been a part of them. _What if in the days of old, such distinction was not made?_ Riona thought at herself. _What if the folk in the civilized lands of Imperium simply called all barbarians Alamarri and made no distinction between them and the Chasind? Maybe Andraste actually led an army of Chasind tribes North... could that really be true?_

While Riona could not find any immediate argument against this hypothesis, she still wasn't sure her theory was worth pursuing. Though... there was one more thing that had irked her before, and that this ridiculous theory would be able to explain rather well. The legend of Flemeth spoke of her defeat at the hands of the great warrior Cormac. In the legend, the witches leading the barbarian armies, namely Flemeth and her daughters, had been burned on a stake. Curiously enough, the same fate befell Andraste... and while such practice was fairly common, it was still an interesting detail to consider.

Even more so, Flemeth had of course survived her death in fire, likely in the same fashion as she survived her defeat by Maythre and her company. The old witch probably had numerous ways how to preserve her essence safe and crawl back into the world of living. Now... and Riona could not believe she was seriously allowing herself to even consider such lunacy, but hypothetically, if Flemeth and Andraste had indeed been one and the same person, then... that would mean that Andraste, the so called 'Bride of the Maker', was in truth this powerful, malevolent and cunning old shape shifter, still very much active and plotting, interfering with the fates of nations and empires.

"Ridiculous," Riona finally laughed, shaking her head, speaking to herself. "I can't believe my demented mind actually came up with something like that. Flemeth and Andraste being one and the same person, that's the stupidest thing I might have ever heard."

It was strange though. From the way Flemeth had Maythre change the face of Ferelden, the way she seemed to hate the Chantry and its lackeys and how she always seemed to show favor to her fellow apostates... it almost started to make sense again. The theory of Andraste being a powerful apostate was not a new one, she had heard it several times, whispered by cowering maleficar as the utmost heresy. All of the wondrous deeds attributed to Andraste could have certainly been explained by use of magic, so that theory did not shock her overly much.

_If Andraste had truly been this powerful apostate we also know as Flemeth... then the Chantry is using Andraste's name to actually oppress everything Andraste herself stood for, the very being of what she was,_ Riona thought, starting to feel that her crazy theory was starting to make too much sense. _I really don't think Flemeth would appreciate the irony. No, I rather think she would hate the Andrastians more than anything else on Thedas and would do anything to crush their church._

Feeling a little lightheaded, Riona stood up from the chair and approached the window of the room she had chosen as her study. It was a beautiful, sunny spring day outside, and she opened the window to poke her head outside. She could see Nathaniel down in the courtyard, together with two young guard recruits, practicing archery together, and she simply stood there and watched for a long while as arrows kept flying towards the wooden board, those fired by Nathaniel hitting it with remarkable accuracy.

_Why can't I just simply put all those legends and mysteries away and enjoy life as it is, with its simple pleasures,_ she thought, following Nathaniel with a longing stare. _But no, it is not that easy. As Flemeth said, there is a task before me, something that I must do before I can see Bethany again. I do not think that having amazing sex with a man that has captured my heart is what Flemeth referred to. Though I do wish she had meant that,_ she hastily added in her thoughts.

_When the time for that task comes, I must be ready to leave him,_ she then realized with a heavy feeling in her heart. _Hopefully not permanently. Or perhaps... perhaps we can undertake that task together. But that... that is something for the uncertain future..._


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Damn it, I have gotten really carried away writing my Mass Effect story. Good thing this one has a little bit of a backlog, but, uh, not much. If it takes a bit more time between the updates in the future, you know why. Not to worry though, this story will be finished, sooner or later. :) _

**Chapter 7**

_An unknown place, in an undetermined time_

The landscape surrounding them was shrouded in deep mists, like sulfurous smoke rising through the cracks in the rocky ground. Unable to see anything ten feet further from her, Merrill's only option was to follow her demonic guide, Xebenkeck, picking her way through the stone outcroppings with such confidence as if she truly knew directions in this dismal, alien place. Whenever she looked around them, the scenery seemed to swirl and shift, one moment she could be certain she saw a great forest spreading around them as they walked, then a gust of wind blew from nowhere, and as the mists settled anew, Merrill was sure that now there was a barren, desolate wasteland surrounding them.

She could not remember how much time had passed since Xebenkeck pulled her through the eluvian and into this realm of shadow and mystery. It was a disconcerting feeling, her senses unable to tell her anything related to time. She only felt the absence of it, as if they had entered a place in which time was a nonexistent concept, and it was making Merrill increasingly dizzy and unsettled.

Then there was this prevalent sense of something... large in the distance, beyond the mists, beyond whatever they hid, standing between them and... what seemed like a large construction, a grand city that she could not see, only feel. _Is that the place that I've seen beyond the Veil, what the humans call the Black City? Or perhaps it is the Golden City, the seat of their Maker?_ Merrill wondered at herself. _I always thought that the eluvian would lead me to Arlathan. Maybe it has... but why is it so dismal like this?_

Caught up in her thoughts, Merrill did not notice that Xebenkeck had stopped moving and the Dalish elf ended up lightly bumping against the scantily clad form of the desire demon. "Careful," her guide turned around, speaking in hushed tones. "I sense something. We are not as alone in this place as I thought."

"I don't see anyth-" Merrill started, but then yelped as Xebenkeck swiftly pulled her downwards, a powerful crackling ball of lightning passing above their heads and sizzling against the rocky outcroppings. She squinted in the direction the deadly spell had come from, now seeing a tall, slender shape emerging from the shadows, holding a mage staff at the ready. At first, Merrill was sure that it was another demon, but the stranger's approach revealed her as a human, a strange looking one for sure, but still a human. The woman's skin was pale, and she was wearing a strange sort of black mage robes, the kind that left too much of her body exposed in ways that Merrill would never dare to show. She appeared to be very beautiful, but the look in her crystalline green eyes was filled with so much contempt, coldness and arrogance, that Merrill withdrew further away, having faced the strange witch's stare.

"I am Morrigan, and you are intruders in my realm," the raven-haired mage declared haughtily, her staff waving about threateningly. "State your purpose here, or face my wrath!"

Xebenkeck straightened up, staring at their attacker with an amused look in her eyes. "Your realm? Aren't you a bold one to make such claim?" she laughed, much to the annoyance of the witch. "Wait... I think I know you..." Xebenkeck quickly approached their attacker, but backed off as Morrigan raised her staff threateningly. "Is that you, Flemeth?" she asked, making Merrill's eyes almost pop out of their sockets from surprise. "Or are you one of her daughters, sent here in search for ancient knowledge?"

Morrigan's lips twisted in a snarl. "Her daughter I am, but nobody has sent me here," she snapped. "I have defied Flemeth's will and have come here on my own volition, to find out what her interest in this place is."

"Then perhaps we can work together?" Xebenkeck asked, smiling amiably. "You know what they say, an enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"How do you know of Asha'bellanar?" Merrill dared to ask, stepping closer to the other two.

"I would like to know as well," Morrigan nodded, still not relaxing from her hostile position. "And if I am not to fight you, then you should make your introductions as well."

"As you wish," the desire demoness said, the smile on her lips growing more smug. "My name is Xebenkeck, and this is my friend, a sweet and curious elf who dreamed of nothing else but to explore the secrets of this ancient place. What is your name, child?" Xebenkeck turned to her.

"Merrill," she quickly replied.

"As for your question... I know Flemeth from age so ancient that you would not believe me if I told you. Perhaps, later I might tell you more, but this will have to do for now," Morrigan looked about to protest, raising her staff again, but suddenly found her weapon pulled out of her hands by an invisible force, tossing it aside, before the same invisible hand gripped her by the throat and lifted her in the air, causing the witch to desperately struggle for breath, her feet kicking in thin air as she wheezed and coughed.

"Understand this, Morrigan," Xebenkeck spoke gently, but in such way that it made Merrill shake from fear, the voice like a poisonous caress. "I can and will kill you without giving it much thought. Do not seek to challenge me. Your only hope to survive the dangers of this place is by listening to me and doing exactly what I tell you," she flicked her hand and Morrigan collapsed on the ground, coughing her heart out. "Do I make myself clear?" she stared at the witch, who could only manage a brief nod before resuming her coughing.

As Xebenkeck casually strode forward, leaving the two of them behind, Merrill rushed to Morrigan's aid, offering her a flask of water and supporting her as she slowly rose from the ground. The raven-haired witch hastily grabbed the flask from her hands, glaring at Merrill as she took a few sips before pushing the flask back into the elf's hands, angry at being bested and humiliated by someone more powerful.

"I don't know what she is," Merrill whispered to the other mage, hoping that despite her prickly personality, she would eventually become an ally. "But we better do as she tells us. She is immensely powerful. I read that she is one of the Forgotten Ones... mystical ancient and much feared beings. Perhaps that is how she knows Asha-... I mean, Flemeth."

Morrigan's stare with which she faced Merrill seemed to lose some of its coldness. "Perhaps you are right," she agreed, rubbing her sore neck and wincing. "And perhaps you are not as dim-witted as you look," she added a moment later, Merrill unsure whether she should feel flattered or insulted.

Just then, Xebenkeck's shape reappeared close by. "Hurry up, my dear friends, for we have much to do," she said, before breaking into a disturbing chuckle. "Remember... **you** do not have an eternity..."

* * *

_Val Chevin, Orlais, Present Day_

Another sleepless night, huddling under the blankets and staring at the dark sky outside was suddenly interrupted by a heavy bang on the doors of her small rented apartment. Bethany immediately jumped up in the bed, feeling alarmed. This noise did not sound like a normal knock on the doors, it was more like someone trying to crash through them. She stood still for a moment, wondering if it had simply been an accident, one of her neighbors accidentally toppling against the doors in drunken haze, but then the second loud bang came and she jumped out of her bed, hastily reaching for her mage robes, folded on the chair nearby.

She was still pulling the robe over her head, when a frightening crash accompanied by sounds of splintering wood made her heart skip. Someone kicked the remains of the door aside and strode in, heavy steel boots sounding threatening against the creaking floor boards and Bethany was in the middle of reaching for her staff, when the intruder appeared in her view, looking just as surprised to see her as she was, staring back.

"I... think I remember you," Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast said sternly, stepping inside her room and facing her. "That young mage from Kirkwall. Sister of Champion Hawke."

"You have a good memory, Seeker," Bethany offered a smile.

"That does not explain why you have gone to such lengths to seek me out," Cassandra said, almost angrily, and Bethany shrunk back a little. "We, Seekers, depend on our existence remaining a secret, and you spread the tales about us like an old Rivaini fishwife. Do those people at the Chantry even know they were sweet-talked by an apostate?" Bethany paled at the accusation. "I suspect not. I suspect they would be very angry to find that out."

"It was the only way I could think of," Bethany tried defensively. "I have learned something that could be of great importance to the Chantry... and I could not think of anyone else to share it with than one of you, Seekers." Cassandra looked at her suspiciously, so she quickly moved to elaborate. "My adventures lead me to an ancient prison in the middle of Wimmark Wasteland, a prison built solely to imprison a very powerful being. One of the original Magisters who travelled to the Golden City."

Cassandra's eyes widened in surprise. "The Chantry would be... most interested." Then her gaze hardened again. "How do I know you have not simply invented the tale to get something from me?"

Bethany reached out to pick up the old Tevinter amulet from a shelf behind her, every movement watched by Cassandra's keen eyes. She tossed the amulet towards the Nevarran who caught it easily. "I took this from the corpse of the Magister," she said simply. "You can probably verify its age with some Chantry historian." Cassandra looked back at her, not knowing what to say. "Why don't we sit down and I'll tell you the whole tale?" Bethany offered, pointing at the nearby table. "Then you can decide what to do afterwards..."

Half an hour or so later, when Bethany had finished, she was glad to see that her story had left quite strong impression on the Seeker. Cassandra was shaking her head, twirling the ancient amulet in her fingers, looking thoughtful and uncertain. "The Chantry would be glad to see part of its story vindicated by facts," she eventually said. "As for the other things the Magister said... the Chantry would be less pleased to learn of all that. If revealed... the implications in the current political climate could be... disastrous," Cassandra paled as she spoke. "The mages would undoubtedly try and use it to their advantage, claiming that the Chantry had lied about the corruption of the Golden City and used the old myth to enslave them in their Circles."

"I'm sorry, but that's how it sounds to me," Bethany remarked. "Isn't it the Seeker's duty to uncover the truth?"

"Uncover yes, but not necessarily disclose to everyone," Cassandra snapped curtly. "Perhaps you do not realize how close Thedas stands to open war between the mages and templars. Revelations like this one could be something that finally lights up this keg of blackpowder."

"I... did not think it was that bad," Bethany shuddered. "I would not wish to be the cause for more bloodletting. But I also do not wish the truth be swept under a rug."

"That will not happen, I assure you," Cassandra said honestly. "I will investigate this personally. But my first and foremost duty is to do everything to stop this war from breaking out, for the consequences would be... disastrous."

"Was it... because of what happened in Kirkwall that things are so bad now?" Bethany asked, her heart heavy.

"Kirkwall, Ferelden, and many other things," the Seeker replied. "The Divine seeks to reform the Circle, to grant more freedoms to the mages, something I'm sure you would approve of. But the templars resist any reform that would diminish their influence and authority. And on the other side, the Libertarians and the Resolutionists are stirring trouble, shouting that gradual change is not enough, calling for immediate and complete freedom and doing all they can to start a revolution."

"That is... horrible," Bethany sighed, feeling gutted. _More lives will be lost all because I did not stop Anders when I could._ "I wish that I could help in some way, do something to prevent this war."

"Then I suggest that you act according to Maker's wishes and submit to the nearest Circle, young woman," Cassandra admonished her. "What your kin needs most now are people like you, calm and reasonable, able to provide a voice of reason."

"Do you think it would truly help?" Bethany asked. "That a newcomer would be listened to, would be able to make a difference? Or would I be just another body to stick the templar swords in when some madman finally tips the scales over the balance?"

Cassandra fell silent, not saying anything, sadness and understanding briefly showing in her eyes. "Maybe there's another way," Bethany suggested timidly. "Maybe I can help you. You said you are doing all you can to stop this war from breaking out. Then let me work with you."

The Seeker shook her head resolutely. "I appreciate your willingness to aid the righteous cause, but for a Seeker to work together, or to employ an apostate, would be a crime in the eyes of the Maker. I cannot do as you ask."

"These are strange times, Seeker," Bethany said, pointing at the ancient amulet still in Cassandra's hands. "Some of what we believe to be the Maker's will might not actually be so. That is why I must find out truth." _That, and to atone for my sins. And to restore my faith in the Maker._

"And you have... no personal motives in all this?" Cassandra asked suspiciously.

"I..." Bethany started hesitantly. "I... knew the apostate responsible for the destruction of Kirkwall. I did not know his horrible plans, but... I will always keep thinking that perhaps I could have done something to prevent it from happening." She faced Cassandra, feeling tears well up in her eyes. "I wish to make up, somehow. Please, allow me to."

Cassandra swallowed heavily and rose from the chair, starting to pace back and forth. "I must admit... I can see how a mage could be very useful in my line of work," she spoke mostly to herself. "I could never employ you officially, of course, and we would need to keep our contact to minimum... if you would consent to be used as an agent for the Seekers, then I believe you could be of great help in the investigation I have been sent to conduct. Yes... I can definitely see opportunities, questionable as it is."

"So... I can join you?" Bethany asked, breath short from excitement.

"Yes, against my better judgment," Cassandra shook her head. "Now get ready, we have a long road ahead of us. We are leaving immediately."

"Where are we going?" Bethany asked, starting to gather the bare essentials needed for the road.

"To Nevarra City," Cassandra replied. "Troubles are stirring within their Circle. I believe you could be of great help in preventing yet another Kirkwall..."

* * *

_The Spoiled Princess Inn, Lake Calenhad, Present Day_

_Hawke was right, all those months ago,_ Cauthrien thought, stripping off her armor and clothes in the sparse light of a single candle. _I have become what I despised. And at some point, simply ignoring it, pushing it all down in the pit of the stomach, it no longer works. And then you have to face the truth... and the truth is that I have become Loghain._

She stood next to the hot bath, prepared by a frightened maid, before climbing inside and submerging in the scented water that was supposed to be calming. _She did not lie when she said there was only obedience or death,_ Cauthrien thought back to her quarrel with the Queen. _I would never be allowed to escape with my life, I know too many secrets. And my face is too well known even if I tried to flee. I would never get far._

Cauthrien had at first wondered why she had such strong objections to the Queen's actions. It wasn't like they hadn't done ruthless, almost downright sadistic and despicable acts before, all in the name of strengthening their rule of Ferelden. _I think it's because I see her becoming something that she, us both, despised so strongly,_ Cauthrien decided. _I admired her intellect, her strength, determination. I would have done anything for her. But that she would mirror the actions of our hated enemies so soon... it breaks my loyalty to her, it cheapens my... my feelings for her..._

"Obedience or death," she repeated numbly, reaching out for a dagger, placed on a nearby footstool, bringing the sharp tip of the blade in contact with the skin of her left wrist. It prickled with promising release and she pushed to press it deeper into her flesh, to sever the artery and let the blood flow into the water... but her hand suddenly refused to obey her.

Blinking, breathing rapidly, she withdrew the dagger, trying to calm down. _Don't be a fool, Cauthrien, it won't hurt a bit,_ she berated herself mentally. _Don't start fearing death now, when you have never feared facing it before._ She tried again, now forcing the dagger down with greater force, but for some reason her hand jerked aside at the last moment, deflecting the blade and it scraped against the side of the tub with screeching noise.

_What the... that... that's not me! That was not me!_ she thought in panic, rising up from the bath, her whole body shaking. _She lied... she lied, death was never even a choice for me! She would not let me escape that easily! I can't even kill myself to free myself from this madness!_

"That's right," Cauthrien recognized the voice, coming from the doors. _How long has she been standing there?_ she thought desperately. "Now, are you done being a dramatic fool, and can we go back to what is truly important?"

"Why are you doing this to me?" Cauthrien demanded, angrily. She could not remember the last time she had cried, perhaps as a little girl, before she had even met Loghain. But now she did feel like crying, cornered and outplayed.

"I wanted to see if I could bind you utterly to my cause without resorting to blood magic," Maythre shrugged casually. "You know that I have barely exerted any control over you for the last five years? Well, except for that little failsafe to keep you from killing yourself," she smiled thinly. "Whatever atrocities you have committed that you now agonize about, have been entirely of your own doing."

"It is watching you employ the methods of our enemies, that is the only atrocity that I find difficult to accept," Cauthrien snapped, even if some of her anger had dissipated. "You are becoming... someone I find hard to follow... a monster!"

"Fine, call me a monster," Maythre said quietly. "But look into your heart and tell me that you are not a monster yourself."

"Of course I am," Cauthrien retorted quickly. "I know that."

"Then stop fighting, and accept it," the Queen said harshly. "That is what you are, a monster. And there is only one person in the whole of Thedas, willing to accept you as you are. I will always stand by you and I will never judge you, Cauthrien, for I **need** you. Now... think, and then tell me again that you can no longer stand with me."

Cauthrien closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. _She is right, and I know it. If I cannot accept what I am, then my actions will haunt me to the end of my days. And if death cannot be my escape, then where else would I rather be than with her? I owe her everything, good and bad._ She felt her frame starting to tremble with powerful emotions overcoming her. _And she needs me! How could I ever think of betraying, abandoning her?_

In one smooth motion, she threw herself at the Queen's feet, pressing her head against Maythre's knees. "Forgive me, please," she begged. "Forgive me, my Queen. I made a mistake in questioning you."

Cauthrien never looked up, and thus never saw Maythre's feral, victorious grin in the dim candlelight. She only sensed the Queen dropping down on her knees next to her, with disbelief feeling Maythre's small, warm hands embracing her naked shoulders. "You are forgiven, my dearest Cauthrien," the Queen spoke softly, her words the sweetest music to her ears, making Cauthrien realize that she wanted nothing else than to be here, to make this moment last for eternity. "But now, get dressed my foolish knight, and follow me for we have work to do," Maythre whispered in her ear. "There is much that we must still accomplish. Together..."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_Kinloch Hold, Ferelden_

"I hope we can leave this damnable tower soon," Cauthrien complained bitterly. In fact, she did this every morning for the past few days they had spent at the old Circle Tower. "Don't we have a land to rule? Your subjects in Denerim will be starting to get restless!"

Maythre tolerated Cauthrien's outbursts with the patience of kind, old Chantry mother. It was just a few days after they had reconciled over Maythre's treatment of the tranquil, and the Queen was willing to play nice for now, just to make sure not to cause any rifts in their mending relationship. Cauthrien's pledge of loyalty was renewed, but she was still ill at ease with everything that went on in the tower. Maythre had considered sending her back to Denerim alone, while she stayed at the Kinloch Hold for a while longer, but something kept telling her that she would have need of Cauthrien's services soon.

She spent days and nights, trying to decide what should be the next steps for her and Ferelden. Reports sent by several of her agents reached her even here at Lake Calenhad, and she devoured the news with great interest, hoping they would provide a clue on what she must do. The Circles around Thedas were trying to organize, to unite, driven by the Libertarians and Resolutionists, supported by the Grand Enchantress herself. The templars everywhere opposed this, realizing that the only thing keeping the peace was the fact that the fraternities of the mages were disorganized, one bickering with another.

At least for now. If they happened to find consensus... then Thedas would explode in blood and violence. Already, she saw an increased traffic of magic users flocking to Ferelden, those apostates who did not wish to get involved in the coming conflict, seeking the perceived safe haven for mages everywhere. She had to smile at that. If a war broke out, it would be only matter of time until the eye of the templars turned to Ferelden, land of heretical supporters of maleficar, prime candidate as a target for Exalted Marches. Then, those seeking refuge in Ferelden would be drawn into the struggle whether they wanted it or not.

One thing was clear. Ferelden had to ready itself for war, for its coming was inevitable.

But there had to be more. Maythre had spent a lot of time deep in thought, until an idea came to her. In the early days, her sole plan was to accrue as much power as she could, before fleeing the Circle Tower. She hadn't dreamed of becoming the Queen of Ferelden then. She hadn't even thought of that when Duncan led her away from the Circle and towards Ostagar. She had hatched those plans later, and it was difficult to remember exactly when and how.

For some reason, she kept remembering the burning flame on top of the Tower of Ishal. The agonizing pain of darkspawn arrows in her shoulder and between her ribs. The flapping of great wings and roaring of magnificent fire, consuming the attacking darkspawn, just before her consciousness faded.

And then, waking up in a desolate little shack, somewhere deep in the Korcari Wilds, in tender care of Morrigan and her wretched mother, the old witch Flemeth. Maythre was starting to suspect that her plans had come to her there, lying half-naked on the dirty rags as Morrigan tended to her injuries. _If I didn't have those goals then, I would have never agreed to join Alistair on his fool's errand,_ she thought.

She was starting to think that perhaps returning to that place would inspire her, provide her with some sort of revelation applicable to her current predicament. It would not be easy to find the old shack deep in the Wilds, and of course the wretched old hag was dead by now, slaughtered by her on Morrigan's request, but her presence was irrelevant. She felt she just needed to go back to that place, soak in those memories, and it would give her the clarity she longed for.

"Cauthrien," she said suddenly, startling her companion a little. "Get ready for the road. Pack provisions for... two weeks."

"It doesn't take that long to reach Denerim," Cauthrien objected.

"We're not going to Denerim," Maythre said, allowing a small smile at Cauthrien's surprised expression. "Now, do as I say and get ready," she ordered. "I will explain as much as I can when we are back on the road..."

* * *

_Campsite on the approach to Cumberland_

After two days of hard riding, the lure of the bedroll felt difficult to resist for Bethany. It took almost inhuman effort to stay up at the fireplace and finish scribbling the letter that she had started the previous night. The exhaustion had prevented her from completing it then and she needed to finish it tonight, for tomorrow they would pass through Cumberland and hopefully a chance to send it.

A yawn escaped her just then, and she felt her companion's eyes on her, a small smile on Cassandra's lips. "Stop torturing yourself and get some rest," the Nevarran woman said, sounding more kind than usual.

"I want to pass it along tomorrow," Bethany replied, struggling with another yawn. She was almost done with the letter anyway. "Hey... do you think it's safe for me to give the Nevarra City Circle as the return address?"

Cassandra shrugged. "I don't see why not. Our task will likely take significant amount of time. How far will the letter be traveling?"

"Oh, just to a friend in Kirkwall..." Bethany said. She thought she could see something akin to suspicion or doubt in Cassandra's stare, so she quickly moved to explain. "He's searching for my sister Riona and also for my lover. They were both... lost, in the aftermath of the explosion in the Chantry."

"I... see," something twisted in Cassandra's usually stern expression. "I thought that all the remains have been recovered by now."

"Oh, they were not caught in the explosion itself," Bethany spoke up quickly. "My sister was chased out of the city by the templars, and nobody has seen her since. And Merrill... umm, my girlfriend," she felt herself blush while speaking, "she just disappeared without trace from her apartment in the alienage. It was the night before the Chantry blew up."

"Could she have been involved in the plot?" Cassandra asked.

"No way," Bethany shook her head vehemently. "Merrill detested Anders, she would have never helped him, not without me knowing."

"I'm sorry, I had to ask," Cassandra said, giving her a sympathetic look. "You obviously care a great deal about them both. I hope you will receive good news from your friend."

"Hope so too," Bethany nodded. "Say... could I ask a personal question?" Cassandra looked at her with curiosity before nodding. "I've been wondering about the Seekers. Do you have to remain celibate like the Chantry priests? Or are you more like templars in that regard, you can marry if you want to, but it's still discouraged?"

Cassandra barked a short laughter. "More like templars, yes, that seems accurate. I know of two of my fellow Seekers who have joined in marriage, so it is not unseen," the Nevarran explained. "As for me, I cannot see that ever happening, not with the traveling involved in my line of work. It is simply impractical, so I suppose I am in a way married to my duties, and the Chantry with it."

"Well, thanks for clearing that up," Bethany grinned, turning back to put a few finishing touches on her letter. "Oh and by the way, you are yet to explain just what is going on in that Circle in Nevarra City."

"You're not going to mention that in the letter, will you?" there was concern in Cassandra's voice.

"No, of course not," Bethany looked a little affronted. "As far as Varric will know, I have been captured and brought to the Nevarra City Circle. He will worry even if I write that they have been treating me well, but I understand that I must do all I can to maintain my cover."

"Good," Cassandra nodded approvingly. "I do not want to lie. This assignment will be very dangerous. In the past month, there have been three murders committed in the Circle, those killed were two high-standing members of the Aequitarian fraternity and a templar Knight-Lieutenant, known for his moderate views."

"Someone is doing all they can to threaten the balance of the Circle," Bethany realized.

"And doing a damn good job at it," Cassandra snorted. "The Libertarians are up in the arms and blaming the templars. The templars are accusing the Libertarians. It is likely that the murderer is in the ranks of one of these factions. I will be investigating the templars..."

"...while I investigate the mages, from the inside," Bethany finished.

"Indeed," Cassandra nodded. "Now you must realize just why your help could be so useful in this mission."

"I do," Bethany nodded, putting the letter down and stretching before leaning back into the blankets. "And I won't let you down," she said, looking at the stars above. "Never changing," she sighed, feeling all melancholic. "So unlike my life. It seems as if I can never settle down in any one place. It's strange, isn't it?"

"What is?" Cassandra asked, sounding a little distracted.

"Mages usually spend all their lives locked up in the Circle. You can never be more settled down than that. I've been thrown around like a feather on a breeze all my life, you'd think I'd be grateful for having all those freedoms most mages don't get to experience."

"Dreaming of settling down?" Cassandra spoke, also leaning back and settling on her bedroll.

"I guess," Bethany said. If she weren't so tired and sleepy, she would have shrugged as she spoke. "Eventually. With someone who matters enough."

"Well, I doubt you wanted to settle down in Val Chevin," Cassandra remarked. "It's a veritable cesspool of corruption. Like most of the Orlais, I suppose. What do you think of the land and its people?"

Bethany thought for a while before replying. "I just... really don't understand them," she said eventually. "What is the basis for their arrogance and sense of supremacy? I don't see it."

"There is none, but that does not mean they can't believe there is," Cassandra Pentaghast said thoughtfully. "The land where Maker's faith was born and flourished. The seat of the Divine. Many believe that is enough for them to consider themselves to be a blessed nation, Maker's chosen."

"Wonderful justification. I really cannot see the Maker approving of their Great Game they are so fond of," frustration seeped into her words, but she was too tired to fight it off. "I think I will like Nevarra better. At least the people in Cumberland seemed nice."

"They are certainly more honest with their intentions," Cassandra agreed. "But now, I suggest we get some rest. We have plenty of ground to cover tomorrow."

"I thought we'll just reach Cumberland and spend the rest of the day there," Bethany reared her head, staring at Cassandra.

"Don't be silly," the Nevarran replied chidingly. "We'll ride straight through and onwards to Nevarra City. There will be no resting until we get there."

"Oh... Maker," Bethany groaned, turning around and collapsing face first in the bedroll.

* * *

_The Hanged Man, Kirkwall, Three Days Later_

"I got your message," Aveline said, sitting down at the table in Varric's private little corner of the inn. "You said you had something for me?" her green eyes glared at the dwarf, frustrated to see he was already deep into his cups.

"I do," the only thing still appearing sober about Varric was his voice. He shuffled a pile of tax reports and financial records before producing a smudged letter. "This just arrived a few hours ago."

Aveline gave him another stern look. "Have I ever told you I absolutely hate dramatic pauses?" she snapped.

"Right," Varric chuckled. "It's a letter from Bethany." Aveline reached out to grab the letter, but Varric swiftly pulled it back. "Watch it, there might be some things that are not meant for you to know," he warned.

"Then quit stalling and explain!" the Guard-Captain exclaimed, looking exasperated.

"Bethany's been captured by the templars," Varric finally said, watching Aveline go pale from his words.

"But... but how?" Aveline repeated numbly, appearing at a loss. "She was always so careful!" She faced him again. "Where is she now? How is she doing, is she being mistreated?"

"She tells us not to worry about her, according to her own words she is being treated well," Varric said. "Whether we can believe that or not... I just don't know," he shrugged his shoulders. "I find this all strange and worrying."

"Exactly what about it do you mean by strange?" Aveline wondered.

"Well... she has been taken to the Circle in Nevarra City," Varric explained. "Wouldn't you say that's a little odd?"

Aveline thought for a bit. "I think I see what you mean. She was staying in Val Chevin, wasn't she? There are at least three Circles of Magi closer to Val Chevin than Nevarra City. Cumberland is directly on the path to Nevarra! Why would they take her so far?"

"I don't know, Aveline," Varric confessed. "But it makes me very worried, when combined with this other letter I received two days ago. It was from one of my people based in Cumberland."

"Did they see Bethany?" Aveline asked.

"No," Varric shook his head. "Bethany asked me to keep an eye out for our templar Knight-Something, Ser Cullen. You remember how he just... disappeared from Kirkwall without much of a notice, right?" Aveline nodded. "I don't really know why Bethany was so interested in him, but I did some checking anyway. Seems he was recalled to Cumberland, which is what I wrote to Bethany. She wrote back and asked me to make sure of it, saying only that it was important. So I asked my associates again, and would you know it, Cullen had disappeared from Cumberland just as swiftly as he was gone from Kirkwall. They spent several weeks trying to find a trace of him. By the Ancestors, I didn't pay much attention to their findings until I received Bethany's letter."

"Don't tell me..." Aveline's voice was a little shaky. "He's gone to Nevarra City?" Varric nodded grimly in reply. "Do you believe these events are linked?"

"Please," Varric held out his hand in front of him. "After all that we have gone through, don't tell me you still dare to believe in coincidence."

"I suppose you are right," Aveline admitted. "What can we do, though? I am tied to this city in these troubling times. Have you made plans?"

"I have," Varric said. "I'm leaving for Nevarra in two days. I fear Bethany has no idea about the danger she is in."

"But if she is in the Circle, what could you possibly do?" Aveline wondered.

"I don't know yet," Varric shrugged. "Never stopped me before, though. I'll think of something, or my name isn't Varric Tethras."

"And what of Riona?" Aveline asked. "Will you abandon your search for her? What if news arrive while you are gone?"

Varric turned away, facing the wall. "I have..." he sighed, hesitating. "...I have called the search off."

"What? Why?" Aveline looked bewildered.

"Simple reason, Aveline," he said coarsely. "If she's still alive, then the fact is that she does not want to be found. So much time has passed already since her escape. At some point we... need to accept things and move on."

"Don't give me that bull, Varric," Aveline snapped. "Don't even try to pretend you don't miss her. You know me too well, you have no right to feed me this crap."

"Well, I must apologize profusely for not living up to the cliched image of this brooding, broken and sensitive soul, hurting deep inside," Varric replied mockingly. "But I'm fine, Aveline. Yes, I miss Hawke and all the crazy shenanigans we got up to over the years. But it's not like I'm miserable without her. The thought about her moving on is liberating in a way, I hope she has done just that. I would have never been able to give her what she wanted, what she needed."

"Varric," Aveline said, more like growled. "You are a bleeding idiot if you believe that."

"Fine, fine, think what you will," Varric seemed a little taken aback by her vehemence. "I'm just starting to think women are bad news in general. You calling me an idiot isn't really helping me to change my mind, you know. Ah well... at least there's Bianca..." he patted the crossbow, resting against the leg of the table. "She'll never run away or call me an idiot!"

"She probably would if she could speak," Aveline shook her head, rising from her seat. "Very well, go to Nevarra and see if you can help Bethany. I will stay here and wait for news, from you, Bethany or Riona, whoever remembers about me. And I will worry until I get an ulcer, or worse."

"Ah, cheer up Aveline," Varric recovered with a chuckle. "I'll stay in touch," he grinned before adding. "The next letter I send will be accompanied with a selection of famous Nevarran vines. That, my friend, is a promise."


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N:_ _Good news, everybody! Despite being very preoccupied with my Mass Effect story, I just wanted to let you know that work on the next chapter of The Years Between is progressing well, and looks like it might get done in time for next Monday. That is all. :) _

_And now I'm off to catch the final episode of season 2 of the Game of Thrones. Toodles, and enjoy the story!  
_

**Chapter 9**

_Nevarra City_

Bethany watched the grand city sprawled before her, low and thick walls centuries if not millennia old, the large palaces with towering statues and colorful plazas spreading between them. A collection of mausoleums, as elaborate as small palaces, had grown to remarkable size outside the low gates, the Necropolis rivaling the city itself in size. This city was remarkably different from Cumberland, equal in size and yet so quiet and placid, compared to the hustle and bustle of the busy southern metropolis.

"I expected the capital to be a little more... I don't know, active," Bethany turned to Cassandra, both of them having stopped their horses at a top of a small hill, overlooking the city slightly below them. "It seems almost sleepy."

"Cumberland is really better suited as a financial, economical and social centre, Nevarra is rather remote in comparison," Cassandra replied. "This city serves more like an administrative centre for the government. There are also plenty of libraries and schools, people across all of Thedas come here to pursue education or study various arts. For me..." her expression grew more thoughtful. "It is also home."

"Oh, I didn't know that," Bethany said quickly. "Does your family not approve of your chosen path?"

"It's not that they do not approve. I come from a long line of military and political leaders of Nevarra, and... I suppose they had expected me to continue the tradition. My parents were understanding, even if they could not quite hide the disappointment. Our relationship is not cold, we simply do not see each other often."

"I expect you to take some time to visit them," Bethany remarked.

"If the mission allows me," Cassandra nodded as they started to descend down from the hill and towards the city gates.

"I did not see any imposingly depressing structure that could serve as a threatening prison for the mages," Bethany resumed the conversation as they rode slowly.

"Oh, it's nothing compared to the Gallows. An old fortress from the Black Age, but it has been repurposed to serve Circle's needs. You will find it far more comfortable than the Gallows, I'm sure."

"It would be hard to top Gallows, that's for sure," Bethany chuckled. "So... you're just going to drop me off in the templar care, then. And they won't know I'm working for you, right?" Cassandra nodded. "So... what I want to know is... how can I be sure you'll get me out after this is all over?"

"You don't trust me?" Cassandra asked. Her expression remained casually neutral as she spoke.

"Well..." Bethany started. "I'm leaning towards trusting you, honest. But... I really don't know you very well. And... this is quite the leap of faith you're asking me to take."

"I thought you wanted to do this to atone for your actions," Cassandra remarked.

"I do!" Bethany exclaimed. "I want to help, yes, but I don't want to remain imprisoned afterwards, just because you or someone else decides that it's the proper place for a deviant apostate like me. I'm sorry if I sound insulting, but..."

"Very well," Cassandra said, stopping her horse, Bethany doing the same. "I promise to do all I can, even risk my own life, to get you out of the Nevarran Circle of Magi, once our mission here is complete. I swear it on the honor of my family." She looked at Bethany. "Will that do?"

Bethany nodded. "It will do. Maker knows, I can't ask any more of you..."

* * *

_Vigil's Keep, Arling of Amaranthine_

With the warm weather of early summer arriving in Ferelden, Riona found herself drawn outdoors more and more, away from her studies of Ferelden history. Hours and days were spent on riding and hiking together with Nathaniel, and one day when she was looking outside their bedroom windows, staring at a nearby old oak and its thick branches, an idea occurred to her. She thought back of Lothering, remembering how much she enjoyed the simple rope swing in the backyard of their little house, and so she asked Nathaniel to construct something similar for her here.

And that was where the elderly, slightly out of breath seneschal found her and Nathaniel, Riona sitting on the wooden seat with her lover's arms around her waist, pulling her backwards and about to release her to swing high anew.

"Oh, Master Nathaniel! Mistress Riona!" he approached them in a hurry.

"Yes, what is the matter?" Nathaniel turned to face him, forgetting that Riona was now about to swing back, managing to duck aside in the last moment and avoiding getting caught with full force of the blow.

"There is some... elf here, asking for you," the seneschal explained hurriedly. "She would not say what she wants with you. I thought to summon the guards and chase her away, but there was something... familiar about her."

"Hold that," Nathaniel raised his hand thoughtfully. "There's no harm in hearing her out. We can always chase the dastardly elf away afterwards, if she is deserving of such treatment. Now, where did you leave this intruder?"

"I told her to wait outside the gates, Master," seneschal replied.

"Prudent and careful as always, my good friend," Nathaniel chuckled. "Well, let's go see what she wants."

They were about to turn and leave when Riona chimed in. "Hey, wait for me, I want to meet the elf too," she complained. "Uh... if you could help me stop this thing, that would be even better." Gravely risking bodily harm, Nathaniel managed to sufficiently slow down the swing and Riona jumped off the seat, forgetting that she was wearing a rather airy summer dress and nearly dropping the seneschal with a heart attack.

She was still blushing from embarrassment by the time they reached the gates. "Any idea who that could be?" she whispered to Nathaniel. "Maybe some old flame of yours and I should remain behind so that it doesn't become too awkward."

"Oh, stop being ridiculous," Nathaniel chided her. "I don't have any old flames, certainly not amongst the elves. And I know only one elf that could be seeking me out..." he pushed the gate open, revealing a slender figure of a rather attractive blonde elven woman, hands crossed on her ample bosom, her cold blue eyes facing them with an impatient stare. "Aha, so I was right, it is you my old friend! Velanna," he said, then pointing at Riona. "Allow me to introduce you to the lady of the Keep, this is Riona."

"Pleased to meet you," Velanna said curtly, accepting Riona's greeting with unexpectedly firm handshake. "Nathaniel, I hate to admit this, but I might have need of your help."

"You, needing the aid of a lowly human?" Nathaniel replied with a mockery of shock. "This must be so difficult and humiliating for you."

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" the elf glared at him with mixture of anger and hurt. "I would have never come here, unless it wasn't all for her... Creators be damned, even siding with humans is worth it if it helps to bring her back home safe..."

"I feel like I'm missing something here," Riona spoke up, confused. "What's going on, how do you two know each other?"

"We teamed up several years ago to cleanse the darkspawn from this part of Ferelden," Nathaniel explained. "We had quite the... torrid relationship throughout that adventure. You see, Velanna here hates nothing else as much as she hates humans."

"Wrong. You're wrong!" Velanna exclaimed, clenching her fists. "Above all I hate the darkspawn, much more than humans, ever since that day when I found out they were the ones who took Seranni!"

"Her sister," Nathaniel explained to Riona. "We eliminated the darkspawn threat, disposed of their leaders, but we never managed to find out what happened to Seranni. Our group dispersed soon after. The wardens returned to Orlais. Anders and Justice travelled to the Free Marches. Sigrun helped me restore Vigil's Keep back to order before going on her own way as well. And Velanna... she disappeared shortly after we defeated the darkspawn. We have not seen each other for six or seven years... I can't remember."

"Charming bit of backstory," Riona remarked. "So... are we motivated to help her, considering everything?"

"I'm guessing this has to do with Seranni," Nathaniel said, turning back towards Velanna. "Your sister. You have news of her?"

Velanna nodded. "Two months ago, I received news that she has returned to my old clan. For a while I fought with myself whether I should go and see her, despite knowing that I would be unwelcome, perhaps even shot on sight."

"That's rather extreme reaction," Riona remarked. "What did you do to make your own people hate you so?" _Then again, maybe I shouldn't be so surprised, considering how quickly Merrill's clan grew to despise her._

"Oh, she just got herself exiled because she was slaughtering every human she came across," Nathaniel elaborated helpfully. "They were worried it might give their clan a bad name. Can you imagine why?"

"I thought you... they had taken Seranni!" Velanna shouted, red in the face. "It was an honest mistake! You... how dare you!"

"Calm down, old friend," Nathaniel raised his hands to placate the irritated elf. "Tell us what happened with your sister and the clan."

Velanna took a few deep breaths before continuing. "I returned to their old hunting grounds, but they were absent. I looked everywhere, but they were gone, I could not find them anywhere. I started to make inquiries with other clans, human hunters, anyone who might have seen them."

"And?" Riona asked, starting to feel intrigued by the tale.

"I must have asked at least hundred different people, men and elves, but nobody had seen anything. I was about to give up, but then I came across a Tal-Vashoth mercenary, lying mortally wounded at the side of a road. I tended to his wounds so that he could tell me all he knew before finishing him off."

"Lovely," Nathaniel remarked. "Helpful to know that years have not softened your sunny disposition and merciful attitude."

"Be quiet," Velanna snapped. "From what he told me, he was ambushed by my old clan. I asked him if he had seen Seranni, I went to great lengths to describe her in detail, hoping he would recognize her. His reply... was shocking to hear." Nathaniel and Riona both kept quiet, waiting for the explanation. "He said that there was only one in the clan who matched that description. The leader of the clan, it's Keeper."

"Wait... your sister returns after six or seven years spent who knows where, possibly amongst darkspawn, and the other elves immediately promote her to be their new Keeper?" Nathaniel blinked. "That... makes no sense to me."

"You're right. You're so absolutely right," Velanna spoke grimly. "That is why all this disturbs me so. Also, the fact that Seranni was leading the clan into the Knotwood Hills. You know what is in Knotwood Hills, yes?"

Riona was frightened to see Nathaniel visibly shudder. "I was hoping I will never need to remember that," he confessed. "Are you sure that's where they were heading?"

Velanna nodded. "I found their last campsite. It was right above the entrances leading down into..."

"Wait, wait..." Riona interrupted. "You're not going to say 'Deep Roads', are you? I am going to be very, very unhappy if you say 'Deep Roads'."

"I'm afraid so," Nathaniel said grimly. "I don't like it any more than you do, Riona, but if there is something suspicious going on in the Deep Roads, like reemergence of the darkspawn, in that case..."

"In that case," Riona interrupted him to finish. "It falls to us to be the gullible idiots who are sent there to investigate..."

* * *

_Land of Shadows, Beyond the Eluvian_

"Do you think she knows where she is going?" Merrill whispered to her new ally, raven-haired human mage Morrigan, watching how their demonic guide Xebenkeck pulled ahead of them on the rocky path, her steps light and silent. After coming across Morrigan, they had been going and going for what seemed like eternity and at the same time, Merrill was aware that it might have been merely minutes, the absence of time in this realm distorting her most basic senses.

"I sincerely hope so," Morrigan snapped in reply, kicking at a loose stone with her leather strapped boot. The rock flew into the mist surrounding them, but there was no noise to indicate it falling back on the ground.

"She seems confident enough," Merrill nodded. Deep inside, however, she was growing more and more worried about Xebenkeck's intentions. She, and perhaps now Morrigan, probably factored into Xebenkeck's plans, somehow. And considering that she was an ancient being possessing great power, Merrill sincerely doubted her plans for them were anything nice. "Morrigan," she said quietly, reaching out to touch the other woman's hand, forcing her to stop.

"What is it?" Morrigan whirled around, her voice an impatient hiss as she stared down where Merrill's hand was still holding on to hers.

The elf quickly withdrew her hand, looking embarrassed. "Aren't you worried that we're placing ourselves in mortal danger by following Xebenkeck?" she asked, keeping her voice low just in case the demoness was close enough to overhear, hiding in the mists.

"Of course I am aware of that," Morrigan replied, still looking impatient. "But she might lead us to great power and riches, too. I am willing to take that risk."

"Even considering how easily she defeated you the first time?" Merrill asked.

"I was... unprepared," Morrigan for a moment looked a little unsure as she spoke. Then she looked back at Merrill, hesitating slightly. "Considering who she is, I was counting on your help, if it would come to another battle."

Merrill felt herself shuddering slightly. "I'm hoping it won't come to that," she said quickly, then looking around thoughtfully. "I would rather we sought a way to leave this dismal place. It's probably been a few days since I went through the eluvian, maybe even a week. Bethany might be starting to get worried..."

"Bethany?" Morrigan asked.

"My... umm, lover," Merrill confessed. "But as I was saying, if we find a way to leave this place, we can then return at any time of our choosing, without the creepy demoness accompanying us. Xebenkeck has shown me how to enter the eluvian..."

Morrigan's eyebrow rose, the young mage clearly interested in this knowledge. "And your eluvian was located..."

"I brought a piece of it over from Ferelden, where it was originally standing in a long forgotten elven ruin," Merrill explained. "I repaired it and it has been in my house in Kirkwall ever since. What about the one you used to enter, where is that one?"

"Back in Ferelden," Morrigan replied after a slight pause, an apparent deliberation whether to reveal this to Merrill, then deciding that the elf was likely harmless. "Placed called Drake's Fall."

"Escaping through that would not be ideal..." Merrill started, then catching herself, startled by Xebenkeck's sudden appearance next to them.

"Don't tell me you are planning to abandon me already?" the demoness waved a slender finger admonishingly. "Little elf, you said you would give up anything just to restore the legacy of your people. And now with this knowledge at your fingertips, you would turn and run away?"

"No, I..." Merrill stumbled, feeling torn between curiosity and self-preservation. "I... you mean, the ruins beyond the mist, is it truly Arlathan? Oh, tell me please!"

"They might very well be," Xebenkeck purred, putting a hand around her shoulder and leading her onwards. "Follow me, and cast away your worries. You will have your answers soon."

"That might be so," Morrigan remarked thoughtfully, falling in line behind them. "But will we like those answers?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_Deep inside the Korcari Wilds_

_"Cauthrien, you will remain here and wait for my return, but no more than seven days. If I have not returned by then... well, I have no instructions for what you should do in that case, for I will no longer care what happens to you or Ferelden. I will be gone and you will be free to do with your life as you please." _

_"This is madness, my Queen! Allow me to go with you, I beg you! You must not head into the Korcari Wilds all by yourself!" _

_"You will hear my orders and you will obey them, Cauthrien. This is a deeply personal matter for me. I cannot bring you with me, even if I wanted to."_

_"...very well, Your Majesty. But I want you to know this, if you are not back in seven days, I will head into the Korcari Wilds to look for you. And I will not leave until I find you, I will search for you until I fall dead from exhaustion, my Queen." _

_"It will not come to that, Cauthrien. I will see you soon."_

That conversation had taken place two days ago. Since then, Maythre had been walking through the thick forests and treacherous swamps, following some kind of base instinct, allowing her feet to pick the path, somehow always certain where she needed to go. If there were any dangers in the Wilds, any stray, remaining darkspawn or Chasind tribes, she never came across them, it was almost as if the Wilds and their inhabitants themselves gave way before her, leading her towards the destination.

At the beginning of the third day of her travels, she came across the familiar looking place she had been searching for. The decrepit, old shack stood at the edge of a marsh, looking every bit as she had expected it, almost eight years since Flemeth's death.

The door opened with a loud creak as she dared to step inside the hovel, barely a ray of light coming through the dirty, mud-stained windows, the rooms sinking in twilight. The floors were covered with mud, dust and all kinds of filth, the belongings all neatly in the shelves and cupboards, covered with a thick layer of dust, nothing here touched for many years.

_I'm not sensing anything... special, just by standing around,_ Maythre thought at herself. _I wonder what it is that I was supposed to be doing here._

Finding nothing of importance inside the shack, Maythre decided to step back outside, opening the creaking door and... almost running face first into an imperious looking woman with elaborate hairstyle, her white hair looking almost like horns. Her feather adorned reddish-brown leather armor made her appear rather imposing, even if the smile on her lips could be at best described as sardonic.

"What took you so long?" the woman asked of Maythre, while the Queen was still contemplating the best way to kill the irreverent imbecile. "I have places to be, plans to make, I can't afford standing around here, waiting for you to finally arrive!" she added with a throaty laughter.

"That... laugh," Maythre took a few steps to the side, steering clear of the strange looking woman. Something about her looked disturbingly familiar. "No... that can't be!"

"Ah, don't be such a bore, child," the woman chided her. "Yes, it's me, Flemeth. Shame on you for not recognizing me immediately."

"You look... different from how I remember you," Maythre said warily, remembering that the meek old crone from many years ago possessed the power to shape-shift into the form of a High Dragon. "I killed you before, and I will kill you again if you threaten me!"

Flemeth laughed again, looking highly amused. "You were so eager to protect Morrigan from committing matricide, weren't you? And now you want to do it yourself for the second time? Aren't you just the precious child?"

"What... what are you talking about?" Maythre's voice was barely a whisper.

"I don't have time for this," Flemeth's expression changed to annoyance. "You are rumored to be highly intelligent, so I want you to act like it. You are my daughter. And you came here because I called you."

"This is madness, I did not come here because of you, I came because I... I... needed guidance..." suddenly Maythre was forced to hesitate, disturbed by the knowing expression on Flemeth's face. "But you can't be my mother! My mother was..."

"Feared by the Dalish, so much so that they called you 'demon-spawn'," Flemeth finished for her. "Yes, I know that, too. And now that this touching part of our reunion is done with, I propose we move on with what we both came here for."

Maythre sagged weakly against the side of the shack, her head spinning. "I don't want any guidance from you... witch!" she raised a weak protest. "I don't know what you have done to me, but I will break free and I will kill you!"

"You will do nothing of the sort. You will do exactly as I tell you, and if you do not... I will do to you what I eventually do to all my unruly daughters," Flemeth added threateningly, stepping closer. "You know what I mean, don't you?"

Maythre shook her head weakly in reply. "If you stop being of use to me, I will take your body for my own, child," Flemeth roughly grabbed her as she spoke, pressing Maythre's back against her chest, holding her firmly.

"I would cast away my old, broken frame for a beautiful, youthful body..." with disbelief, Maythre felt Flemeth's hand move across her body, cupping her breast and lightly squeezing it. "Oh, the joys and delights I would savor with a body like yours... perhaps, I should not even waste my time dealing with you? Perhaps I should simply claim this shell as my own and do all that is required myself?"

"No... no, I beg you, I will listen, I will do what you want, please... please, don't take my body," at this threat, the mighty Maythre was suddenly reduced to a gibbering, pleading wreck.

"That is much better," Flemeth chuckled disturbingly, her hand moving away from Maythre's breast, heading upwards to cup her chin. "Then listen to me, child, and listen well. This is what I want you to do."

"You know as well as I do that war is coming to Thedas. We will be given a unique opportunity to once and for all crush the Chantry and their templar puppets," Flemeth started with her instructions.

"You want me to go to war with Orlais?" Maythre managed weakly.

"Yes, but I want you to be clever about it, my child," Flemeth lectured patiently, still holding Maythre tightly grasped in a less than comfortable position. "The land will erupt in a civil war, power hungry lords and dukes squabbling and weakening each other. In the middle of it all, the templars and the mages are destined to come to blows. Use this chaos to your advantage before any side can gain the upper hand and rally the rest against you."

"Are you telling me to plan an invasion? Leading armies is not exactly my strong suit..." Maythre tried to argue.

"But you have one of the brightest generals on Thedas at your command," Flemeth said. "Between you two, I trust you will carry out my wishes. I thought I had given you enough motivation to succeed," the old witch said, her hand once again moving over Maythre's body disturbingly, making the young elf feeling sick to the point of vomiting.

"It would be particularly ironic if I were to take your body after you have gone through such lengths to secure your immortality," Flemeth chuckled, the threat alone enough to make Maythre sag weakly in her arms. "You have given me a wonderful gift, one that I will take sooner or later. For your own sake, you should pray that it is later."

"I will... find a way to break free, I promise..." Maythre managed, with dismay feeling tears of helplessness rolling down her cheeks.

"There, there, child. Many have tried to defy me, but none has succeed in a very long time. I suggest you simply do as I say," Flemeth said mockingly, bringing up her hand to wipe Maythre's cheeks dry again. "Before I leave you with your life, there are a few more things you will do for me. You will soon receive a visit from the Grey Wardens from Weisshaupt Fortress. Here's what you will do when they arrive..."

* * *

_Knotwood Hills, Arling of Amaranthine_

With a growing sense of unease, Riona stood at the edge of the rocky ravine, staring at the rickety wooden constructions with a stairway leading into the large cavern below. "So... these passages lead to the Deep Roads, huh?" she asked, turning back to Nathaniel and Velanna, both also looking thoughtfully into the grim pit.

"That they do," Nathaniel confirmed, not sounding entirely happy.

"Many happy memories of your first trip here?" Riona's attempt at a joke felt rather flat.

"Yes, especially the part about having to deal with a darkspawn broodmother," Nathaniel shuddered lightly as he spoke.

"A brood-a-what?" Riona blinked. "Either way, it doesn't sound nice."

"Have you ever spent time wondering where all those darkspawn come from?" Nathaniel asked, sounding deeply disturbed at the memory alone.

"I've tried not to. Thank you for the reminder," Riona grumbled. "I imagine you're going to tell me."

"Yes, I feel that you... deserve a warning. If we... ever happen to become separated down there or..." he stopped, hesitating, the sheer amount of horror in his voice frightening Riona. "Do not let them take you alive, by any cost. The broodmothers... they were once women, human, elves or dwarves, but after... giving birth to thousands of darkspawn, corrupted by the taint... they have become grotesque monsters beyond description."

Riona felt a shudder running through her, suddenly making her appear cold and freezing. "That does sound... worse than death," she admitted, before turning towards Nathaniel. "I want you to promise me that you will do everything you can to stop me from being taken alive. Even..."

"I promise," Nathaniel interrupted her hastily. "Just don't say those words, I don't want to hear them. I know what you mean, just don't say it."

"Alright," Riona nodded grimly, turning away from the edge of the ravine and throwing the backpack over her shoulder again. "Well, let's get to it then. Shame we don't have a Warden with us, Anders certainly was helpful to have around on our own Deep Roads expedition."

"I have undergone the Joining," Velanna, having kept quiet this far, suddenly spoke up, forcing Riona to turn towards her in surprise. "Those Wardens forced me to do so at the sword point. They would not have accepted my aid otherwise."

"Not that I can really blame them," Nathaniel inserted. "After all, you had displayed great enthusiasm in killing all humans in your sight just recently before that."

"Why aren't you wearing the Grey Warden garb in that case?" Riona asked. "Are you like Anders, hiding from them or something?"

"I'm not hiding from them. If they return to force me back into their service, I will kill them one after another," Velanna replied simply. "I want nothing to do with them or their fight against the darkspawn. My only concern is finding my sister."

"Right. And... do you feel any darkspawn around us right now?" Riona inquired as they had started their way down the rickety wooden stairs into the cave proper.

"No. There are most assuredly no darkspawn anywhere near us at the moment," Velanna said confidently.

"Almost difficult to believe considering our luck," Nathaniel managed a chuckle. "We have been walking the whole day already, I think that once we reach Kal'Hirol-"

"Kal'Hirol?" Riona interrupted him. "That sounds dwarven."

"Yes. An ancient dwarven thaig right below us," Nathaniel explained. "We cleared it from darkspawn all those many years ago, and Velanna's senses seem to imply that they have not returned. If that is so, it would provide for a safe place to rest before advancing further into the Deep Roads."

"Agreed, rest sounds good," Riona nodded. "Especially darkspawn uninterrupted rest."

* * *

_Circle of Magi, Nevarra City_

Two days after her delivery to the Nevarran Circle, Bethany stood at the window in her cell, staring at the courtyard outside. Compared to the cramped accommodations in the Gallows, it seemed like travesty to call this room a cell, it was at least twice if not three times larger and well furnished with all basic amenities. Another surprise was the wide window, and the lack of bars in front of it. The fact that she was on the fourth floor of the old fortress, at least twelve yards above the ground, facing the inner courtyard made certain that bars were not needed, but that hadn't stopped the bastards at the Gallows to literally nailing all windows shut.

And then there was the courtyard itself, almost like a small park with a tiny brook running through it, winding gravel pathways stretching around it, surrounded by copses of evergreens. As far as Bethany understood, she was free to go outside for walks during any time of day, it was only after ten o'clock in the evening that all mages were required to be inside, in their quarters or in the library and some other public rooms. After the Gallows, this seemed... almost like a dream. _If all Circles were like this, maybe the protests wouldn't be ringing so loudly,_ she thought, even as she knew she was wrong, for this was still not the true freedom that her kin were fighting for.

Bethany and Cassandra had been considering at length to which fraternity she should seek to align herself to. If the murderer came from the ranks of the Libertarians, it would have made sense to join their ranks, but Bethany was unsure how convincingly she would be able to pass off as a Libertarian. _Give me liberty or give me death! Grrrrr!_ she had practiced for a while with a grin on her lips, eventually deciding on the riskier path to pass herself as an Aequitarian. She was well aware that she was making herself a potential target with this choice, but still, Bethany was also reasonably assured that she would manage to pass as someone too insignificant to be noticed by the mysterious killer.

In these two days, she had managed to make a few acquaintances amongst the younger and lowly ranking Aequitarians, in particular two girls fresh out of their Harrowing, happy to tell her about everyone in the Circle, introducing her to the latest gossip and intrigue amongst the mages and templars.

The First Enchanter of the Nevarran Circle was a surprisingly young looking elven mage by the name of Torisandrus, not affiliated with any of the fraternities. He eventually stopped by Bethany's quarters to briefly welcome her into the Circle, and Bethany had become rather taken with his handsome appearance, large, expressive dark brown eyes, the pronounced hawk-like nose and waist-long dark hair, pulled together in several thick braids. The man was certainly not lacking in charisma, Bethany finding his soft baritone difficult to resist, wanting to hear more and more of his voice, but alas, the elf had excused himself soon after, claiming to be extremely busy with his duties as the First Enchanter.

After the murder of two Aequitarian Senior Enchanters, only three other mages in this high position remained. Two of them were Libertarians, an elf and a human both of middle age, the two men never leaving each other's side, lending fertile soil to rumors about the nature of their relationship. Bethany had only seen them briefly, not able to make much of an impression, and from those brief looks neither Kiellin nor Freyd appeared the outright crazy Libertarian seditionist or murderer type, making Bethany feel a tad disappointed.

The last of the Senior Enchanters was from the smallest of the fraternities, a Loyalist representative, old woman in her early eighties by the name of Washa. With her graying hair, trembling hands and fragile frame, Bethany immediately discounted her from the list of suspects, even if her fanatical devotion to the Chantry would have made her the perfect candidate to kill someone purely out of her zealous principles.

Bethany's new friends were looking around more cautiously while sharing their gossip about the templars, claiming that in light of the recent murders, the situation in the Circle was growing more and more tense. _It still feels more relaxed than the Gallows on a good day,_ Bethany thought, listening how the two girls proceeded to describe Knight-Commander Leonidas, a harsh Antivan-born man with strong convictions, but still possessing modicum of common sense and allowing the mages just enough room to breathe, even as he faced opponents in his own ranks, demanding him to push the mages harder and harder.

After the murder of one of Leonidas' right hands, only two Knight-Lieutenants remained active on duty. One of them was a mountain of a man, known to mages only by his nickname of Hammer, because of the wicked weapon he was always carrying on his back. With his unruly black beard, always some scraps of his latest meal stuck in it, and narrow, cold eyes, Bethany developed instant dislike for the man, and it seemed that even Knight-Commander Leonidas was cautious with this templar, his disdain for mages apparent in every gesture he made.

The other surviving Knight-Lieutenant was an attractive pale-faced woman with long red hair, an eye-patch covering her left eye, and Bethany's helpful guides knew to explain that it was not hiding a scar of an old injury but rather some sort of defect suffered at birth. The woman's name was Savina, and she appeared cold and aloof, carrying out all her orders without a comment or question, in fact only a handful of people had ever heard her utter a single word, leading many to believe that she suffered from muteness.

There was also a small Chantry within the Circle, tended to by two Mothers, welcoming mages and templars onto this neutral ground blessed by the Maker, whether with the intent of a prayer or to discuss difficult topics without having to worry about betrayal in this Maker's sanctum. One of the Mothers was a Fereldan, Avris by the name, and Bethany immediately sought to capitalize on that fact, but it quickly became clear that Avris was not interested to use this as a source for bonding, the woman somehow reminding Bethany of a harsher and colder Aveline.

The other Chantry Mother, Hannah, was a young blue-eyed blonde, only a few years Bethany's elder, stepping to her side immediately after Bethany had been brushed aside by Avris, offering her apologies. They had talked at length after that, Bethany quickly developing a degree of affection for the young Mother.

But even as Bethany had learned a little more about the most prominent persons within the walls of the fortress that housed the Circle, she still was not sure where to lay her suspicions. Certainly, both the Knight-Lieutenants appeared good candidates for prime suspects, but Bethany had long since learned not to trust her first impressions.

_I need more information, a lot more information, before I can even begin to comprehend what's going on here. Let's just hope that Cassandra has something for me,_ she thought, looking at the small piece of paper in her hand, unfolding it to read it again.

_"Meet me two hours after midnight in the small alcove past the library on the third floor. I have something for you._

_C.P."_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_Circle of Magi, Nevarra City_

The hallways of the old fortress serving as home for the Nevarran Circle, looked completely different to Bethany during night, the twisted passages and nooks and crannies casting grotesque shadows in the torchlight. Still, there was something infinitely more comforting about this place compared to the Gallows back in Kirkwall, even considering the recent murders and the increased templar presence, standing guard.

Twice Bethany had to duck into a dark alcove, hiding in the shadows as the guards passed her by, failing to take notice of her. It felt almost miraculous to her to even have this opportunity of being able to sneak outside at this hour, back in the Gallows the templars would lock each and every of the mages up and kept the keys close at hand. Here, they had their own keys to their rooms, allowing them to sneak outside or lock the doors from inside, a popular practice even before the recent murder spree.

Eventually she reached her appointed meeting place with Cassandra, the Nevarran Seeker already waiting for Bethany, her olive-skinned complexion looking particularly grim and severe in the twilight, the light of the torches not reaching far into the alcove.

"I thought you said we wouldn't be able to keep contact," Bethany said quietly, squeezing into the alcove, then listening for any footsteps of the patrolling templar guards.

"I feared that might be the case, but fortunately the security here is not as tight as I expected," Cassandra replied. "I have been granted temporary quarters nearby, for the course of my investigation. But it is still recommended we keep our contact to the minimum. Knight-Commander Leonidas might act forthcoming and helpful, but he is still very suspicious of my activities and will no doubt have me watched."

"I guess everyone would be wary of outsiders," Bethany nodded.

"Seekers are viewed with suspicion everywhere they show up, likely because we do not appear unless the circumstances have become dire enough," Cassandra said, then giving Bethany an inquisitive look. "So, what have you managed to find out?"

"Not much yet, still getting to learn about the here and forming my impressions on them," Bethany shrugged. "The daily routine of the people here, the order in which everything is done, anything that could help in understanding the way these murders were committed. Nobody really wants to talk about the details of the murders, so I have managed to learn only a few things..."

"All three men were killed by multiple knife stabs to the chest area," Cassandra spoke, quickly reciting what she had learned. "Death was near instantaneous. Nobody has heard any screams or any noises at all, though with these thick walls, I imagine that is not surprising."

"I understand that all of them were killed while they were sleeping in their own beds?" Bethany asked.

"That is correct," Cassandra nodded. "Murdered in their sleep."

"So, I was thinking... they all had their own room keys, right?" Bethany mused. "Do you have any idea if they had locked the door from the inside?"

"We have no way to be certain, but everyone assures me that all three victims practiced the safe habit of locking their doors during the night. Obviously, the doors were left open after the murders had been committed."

"The templars surely have a spare key from every room in the fortress," Bethany ventured.

"Yes, they are kept in the guard post that we passed when entering the fortress at the gates," Cassandra explained. "There are three guards present at all times, I checked it personally. There is no way that the murderer would have been able to secure the key from the guard post."

"In that case... there's really only one explanation," Bethany admitted after a moment of thought. "I find it unlikely that these murdered men would have opened the doors to let their murderer in and then got back to sleep while the killer was still in their room. Even if it was someone they trusted enough to let inside... it just doesn't make sense for them to return to sleep."

"So we're looking for someone who can pick a lock," Cassandra concluded. "I will ask around if anyone knows of a person like that. It's a slim lead but it's better than none."

"I suppose you could also comb all rooms in the fortress looking for the lockpicking tools," Bethany suggested, shrugging her shoulders. "Though the culprit probably keeps them well hidden. Or worse, they could be keeping them in such a place to implicate someone else. In the Gallows, templars sometimes slipped blood magic treatises under the mattress of my bed and then caught me with this 'evidence', whenever they wanted to have fun beating up and humiliating a pretty girl."

"I'm... sorry," Cassandra said, looking uncomfortable. "I could see that Kirkwall's Circle was rotten to the core, but I had no idea it was that bad."

"Think nothing of it, I have put it behind me," Bethany smiled. "So, we're cautiously probing for someone who knows how to pick locks. Any other leads that we should keep in mind?"

"Not much," Cassandra shrugged. "I have heard that a new Senior Enchanter will be chosen from the midst of the Aequitarian fraternity. Enchanter Carsini."

"I think I've seen him," Bethany replied thoughtfully, rubbing her forehead. "Small, parched, rat-faced man, didn't particularly like the sight of him."

"Well, considering the previous two Aequitarian Senior Enchanters were murdered..." Cassandra said ominously. "I'm not sure he's really looking forward to this promotion. Unless... he was the one who helped his own promotion along."

"Ah, I see..." Bethany realized. "You want me to keep a closer look on him, just in case."

"Exactly," Cassandra nodded, then pulling back deeper into the alcove at the sound of footsteps growing closer. "We should cut this short. If you really must speak with me, show me a sign and I will set up a meeting. For now... good luck with the investigation."

"Same to you, Cassandra," Bethany answered with a smile.

* * *

_Imperial Highway, Denerim Approach_

The first thing to do on Maythre's list after escaping the horrors of the Korcari Wilds was to find a tavern or an inn where she could have a hot bath, spending hours in the tub, vigorously scrubbing her body, trying to wash off the creepy, crawly sensation of the old witches' fingers running across her skin. But no matter how much she washed and scrubbed, the terrible sensation never fully left her.

_I don't care whether she really is my mother like she claims, or not. It does not change a thing. She is an enemy that I must find a way to defeat or at least protect myself from,_ Maythre thought, once she and Cauthrien were back on the road again. _And that makes Morrigan my sister, of course. Now I know why all my senses warned me against seeking intimacy with her, despite us both feeling mutual attraction,_ she realized, feeling even more disturbed.

_Maybe I can find Morrigan and throw her before Flemeth, so that she leaves me alone. That might be one solution... I merely need to prove myself to be of greater use than Morrigan is. And Flemeth is __**very**__ displeased with Morrigan... yes, I believe that might be a way out. I just need to discover where Morrigan has been hiding..._

Maythre shook herself out of her thoughts, turning her head to gaze at Cauthrien, riding alongside her. The general had been overjoyed, as much as she could display such emotion, at her safe return from the Korcari Wilds. _She will be the key if I want to succeed against the Orlesians,_ Maythre decided, gracing Cauthrien with a small smile. _I must treat her well and keep her safe._

"So, Cauthrien... if you were to plan an invasion into Orlais, how would you go about it?" Maythre asked a little nonchalantly, her question surprising the general.

"Is this what your revelations told you we must do?" Cauthrien asked. Maythre nodded in reply, sending the general deep in musing. "I would say to forget about it," she shrugged. "They outnumber us ten to one. I'm afraid there is literally no chance of success, my Queen."

"What if they were embroiled in a nasty civil war, as well as mage and templar conflicts?" Maythre asked. "That could provide the distraction we need."

"We could try to ally ourselves with some of the insurrectionists," Cauthrien pondered. "Not the Orlesian nobility, that would prompt them to cease their civil war and unite against us. But the mages, you could probably strike a deal with them."

"That might be a possibility," Maythre nodded.

"But any way I look at this, we would have a disadvantage in numbers," Cauthrien shook her head, still not liking their chances. "For any army trying to best a superior force the key would be mobility and taking advantage of their surroundings. Which would be more difficult when fighting on their ground."

"I do not want to give them any advantages, Cauthrien. I want you to study the maps, the geography of the land, I want you to know the battleground like the back of your hand," Maythre said. "If necessary, I want you to travel to Orlais in disguise and see what you can learn for yourself."

"That won't be necessary, my Queen. I assure you that the collections of knowledge in our libraries are extensive and sufficient."

"But you are right, Cauthrien. I don't want a large, slow army that could be caught flat-footed. I want a highly skilled, elite force, a healthy mix of cavalry and infantry, capable of traveling quickly and at moment's notice," Maythre said.

"The problem is that we will not have the numbers to successfully lay siege to their well fortified cities," Cauthrien spoke. "Of course, there are a number of strategies to employ such as starving and demoralizing them, if you wish to consider that."

"Absolutely! I want you to do everything you have to in order to succeed! Burn and salt their fields, pillage and raze their granaries, slaughter the livestock, execute their peasants, do whatever you must to sow terror and break their will to fight," Maythre said, bewildered that Cauthrien would even stop to consider that she might not approve of some methods based on ethical grounds.

"As you wish," Cauthrien shrugged her shoulders, then giving a hoarse laugh. "Loghain would have loved this. Ironic, is it not?"

"I suppose he would have enjoyed it, yes," Maythre nodded, not particularly willing to spend time reminiscing about her old foe. "There are a few other things I think we should do in preparation. I want to expand our spy network in Orlais, I want to double, no, triple the number of agents we have stationed there. Everyone is watching the mages and the templars argue, all attention focused on them, this is the perfect time to move our people into their positions."

"That seems wise," Cauthrien nodded. "And the other thing?"

"All the mages that have flocked to sanctuary in Ferelden having been doing nothing but growing their bellies for several years now. It is time to put them to work. They will play an important role in the ranks of the invading army. Later we can work out the details on how to best use them, but I want to bring enough firepower to be able to tear down any walls in our path."

"They will be of great help, I am sure," Cauthrien agreed.

"Of course they will be, as long as we find the right people for the job," Maythre said, her thoughts immediately traveling elsewhere. _Speaking of which, it has been some time since I have checked where my old friend Hawke has wondered off to. Looks like I might have a use for her soon..._

* * *

_Ruins of Kal'Hirol, Deep Roads_

_'Why have you come here?'_ there was a quiet voice inside her mind, an insidious whisper, as Riona was sleeping, tossing about in a restless dream. _'The others are welcomed to stay, and they will do so, but not you. You... are different. You do not belong.'_

These whispers kept constantly repeating in her mind, eventually forcing Riona to open her eyes, waking up. For a while she simply rested with her head on the uncomfortably hard pillow, feeling an unpleasant thumping in her temples. _Ow... my head. What a bloody nightmare. Wish I could remember anything... there was some kind of a voice trying to tell me something..._ she slowly thought, trying to gather her bearings.

It was only a while later that Riona became aware of a presence nearby, someone sitting at the still smoldering fireplace. She slowly turned her aching head, barely managing to suppress a yelp at seeing Velanna there, sitting on her knees on the ground, a strange, wild look in her eyes as she was staring in Riona's direction, but the gaze seemed to pass right through her, as if she wasn't even there.

"Hey... Velanna!" Riona called out softly, hoping not to wake Nathaniel sleeping next to her, but trying to shake the elf out of her strange, frightening state. _It's like... she's not all there,_ Riona thought worriedly.

Velanna shook her head as if trying to clear it, softly rubbing her temples before looking back at Riona. For a moment it seemed as if the elf was not aware of where she was. "Yes?" she finally managed.

"Everything alright?" Riona asked, rising from the bed roll, still deeply worried.

"Yes, I am fine," Velanna quickly recovered.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" Riona pressed.

"I think I woke because I... heard something," the elf replied. "Probably was a stray deepstalker. There's nothing to worry about," she added hastily.

"And you're sure there are no darkspawn around?" Riona asked, feeling anything but reassured at Velanna's statement.

"You would doubt the word of a Grey Warden?" Velanna snapped back, then trying to concentrate on sensing the darkspawn, bringing up a hand to rub her temples as if she were in pain. "I can't feel any darkspawn, no," she said after a while. "There is... something, but... it is very faint and appears far off. I don't know what... no, it does not seem to be darkspawn..."

"How can you sense something that's not darkspawn?" Riona blinked.

Velanna shrugged, concentrating again. "It is gone, whatever it is," she said with certainty. "I must have been mistaken. My head is not entirely clear, I have been... thinking a lot about Seranni."

"You must be worried sick," Riona said, a little more sympathetically.

"I will find her, no matter what," there was steel in Velanna's voice.

"I hope you do," Riona nodded, reaching out for her canteen and taking a few sips of water. "Perhaps we should return to sleep?" she suggested afterwards, not entirely comfortable with the way Velanna had stared right through her just moments ago. _Something here is not right,_ she thought at herself. _I did not much care for that wild, possessed look in her eyes just then._

"That seems prudent," Velanna nodded, rising from the ground and stretching before walking over to her own bedroll. "And do not worry. We are safe here."

"Good to know. Thank you, Velanna," Riona replied, easing herself down on the bedroll, but not daring to close her eyes just yet. Silently she waited, looking across to where the blonde elf rested, waiting for her to fall asleep first. Eventually, the elf's tossing and turning stopped, as she fell into deep slumber and Riona allowed herself to roll over on her side, settling in more comfortably.

Despite her heart still beating alarmingly, soon enough she was back sleeping, that relentless, mysterious whispering continuing to pursue Riona in her dreams. _'Leave this place, and stop pursuing me, as we agreed, promises written in blood,'_ the whispers told her. _'Leave the others behind and go. Go, while you still can...'_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_Ruins of Kal'Hirol, Deep Roads_

Riona woke up with a startled scream, then immediately pressing her palm against her mouth as soon as she remembered where she was. Cold sweat was pouring down her back from the increasing and overwhelming feeling of being in mortal danger. It had something to do with yet another horrible, disturbing dream, yet she could not immediately place the details. _Some kind of warning to leave, something serious, that much I know._

"Hey... what's wrong," Nathaniel grumbled, opening his eyes, and slowly getting up from his bedroll. "What's with the shouting, Riona?"

"I, ah... must have been having a really bad dream, I think," Riona quietly confessed. "Nathaniel, did you sleep well?"

"No... I can't say that I did," he replied, shaking his head, then wincing. "Ugh, my head... I swear, there must be something wrong with this place we picked."

"Did you have any dreams?" Riona asked, holding her breath. "Do you remember anything? Anything at all?"

Nathaniel thought for a moment before shaking his head again. "No, nothing that I can recall," he said. "Don't waste time thinking about it, I bet it's just this place getting to us."

"I hope you're right," Riona quietly agreed, starting to fold her bedroll back together.

"Riona?" came Nathaniel's voice, interrupting her. She looked over to him, facing him questioningly. "Where's Velanna?"

Riona let the bedroll fall out of her hands as a shudder ran through her. "What do you mean?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"Well, she's not here at the camp," Nathaniel stated, having looked around some more. "Perhaps she went to scout ahead?"

"I have no idea, I thought she was still sleeping in her corner," Riona said.

"There's no sign of her. But let's get ready for the road, have something to eat first," Nathaniel suggested. "Maybe Velanna will show up while we eat."

_Somehow I sincerely doubt that,_ Riona thought at herself, deciding not to voice her concerns. "I'm not really hungry," she replied quietly, too worried and afraid, the mere thought of food making her gag.

"Well, with your permission, I will have something," Nathaniel managed a smile, pulling out a wrapped loaf of bread from his backpack and tearing off a chunk, starting to eat.

"Nathaniel," Riona started, rocking back and forth with tension as she sat on her knees. "I don't like this. There is something terribly wrong about this place."

"Of course there is," Nathaniel replied, a little impatiently. "It is an old dwarven thaig in the Deep Roads. There are only a few things that are not wrong about all this."

"There's something else, something beyond that, I cannot put it into words, not just yet," Riona said. "We should leave. Now."

"You're not implying we should leave Velanna behind, I hope," Nathaniel gave her a fierce stare. "She might be extremely unpleasant at times, but I still consider her a friend... of sorts. And she has saved my life on several occasions in the past. I cannot just abandon her like that!"

_Somehow I doubt we can help her anymore,_ Riona thought grimly. "Of... of course," she merely sighed, admitting defeat, realizing that she would only anger Nathaniel if she continued to insist upon abandoning their elven companion. "Let's get ready and look for her. Do you think you can track her in these caverns?"

Nathaniel thought for a while before nodding. "She would have left some traces, I'm sure."

"You do realize that without her we have no idea about the darkspawn movements?" Riona asked him, busy stuffing the folded bedroll into her backpack.

"I know," Nathaniel turned towards her, his gaze grim. "It is imperative that we find Velanna quickly, because without her... this is a great deal more dangerous."

"And if we can't find her?" she pressed.

"Riona, I can't just abandon her down here," Nathaniel looked at her, appearing a little frustrated. "I swear I will do all I can to avoid putting you in danger."

"I know you will," Riona managed to summon a weak smile, turning away to finish packing. _I just don't think you realize the amount of danger we're in, my dear Nathaniel._

* * *

_Circle of Magi, Nevarra City_

The next morning, Bethany arrived at the common rooms for breakfast just in time to witness a strange commotion. There were more templars than she had seen previously during meal times, and she thought she saw a group of them escorting one of the mages away as she entered. _Maybe they caught the murderer?_ she thought at herself, noticing some signs of struggle around the room, the knocked over bowls and chairs at one of the tables.

Some of the mages were glaring daggers at those templars remaining behind to ensure order, but most were keeping their heads down, appearing frightened. Bethany realized that remaining standing and looking around would appear suspicious, fortunately quickly spotting her two Aequitarian friends, rushing to take a seat at their table. "What happened here?" Bethany whispered, reaching out to cut a slice of bread, trying to act normal under the scrutinizing gaze of the templars.

The two girls at first looked too frightened to reply, but then Elenia, the blonde elf, dared to whisper back to her. "We don't really know. Freyd and Kiellin suddenly started to fight for some reason, and the templars rushed in and took them both away."

_The two Libertarian Senior Enchanters, fighting? The inseparable couple?_ Bethany blinked. "They were fighting? What about?" she asked.

"We're not really sure," the other of the girls, Sylvin, replied. The straw-haired human with her wide cheeks and buxom figure had more of an appearance of a peasant girl, not that of a young mage apprentice. "I think they accused each other of using..." her voice dropped down to a barely audible whisper. "...blood magic."

"Why would they claim that?" Bethany shook her head in disbelief. "Now the templars are going to skin them alive until they get answers!"

"I'm not sure, I wasn't listening very carefully, but..." Sylvin said thoughtfully. "I think that Freyd was telling about... a dream he had last night. Suddenly, Kiellin jumped up from his seat, red-faced, starting to yell at Freyd, telling him to get out of his head, flinging around the blood magic accusations!"

"He claimed that it was _his_ dream and that Freyd had stolen it from his mind with blood magic," Elenia added, looking a little pale. "It was all so strange and frightening."

_I've never heard of blood magic being able to do that,_ Bethany thought at herself, starting to feel a little disturbed from the odd tale. _Even if it could, the question remains why do something so... strange? Stealing dreams?_

"Yes, and Freyd then accused him of the same and they started to fight, about to let loose with their magic when the templars rushed in and put a stop to it," Sylvin finished the tale. I wonder what they'll do with them..."

"Nothing pleasant," Bethany muttered, digging into her breakfast, despite not feeling all that hungry anymore. _Come to think of it, I've been having some strange dreams as well,_ she realized, recalling the uneasy sleep of last night. _Can't really remember what they were about, only... the odd image here and there. And the way my head feels so heavy every morning is a little odd, too._

"Did you hear what the dream was about?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. The girls both shook their heads in denial. "You haven't had any strange dreams yourselves?" Bethany then asked casually.

The girls exchanged quick glances, before Sylvin shook her head and grinned back at her. "Oh no, you're not doing that to us, Betty," she said. "Even if I had, I wouldn't think of telling you after all that."

"Nor would I," Elenia agreed. "Nice try, though!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to get you into trouble," Bethany quickly apologized, hoping she hadn't just alienated her two sources of information or made them too suspicious to share anything with her in the future.

"I'm sure you weren't," Elenia grinned, then rising and dragging Sylvin away with her. "See you later, Betty!"

"See you," Bethany nodded at them, falling deep in thought as the others left. _Suspicions of blood magic, strange dreams and a host of murders. How does that all fit together?_ she thought to herself. _Maybe I'm wrong for seeking connection where there is none. It could all be unrelated, after all._

Bethany quickly finished her meal, ignoring the protests of her belly claiming to be disgusted at the mere thought of food. She remained sitting at the table as the hall quickly cleared, mages one after another going on about their business as she pondered what to do next. The girls would probably keep to themselves at least until dinnertime, and she didn't have many other sources of information amongst the Circle yet. She supposed she could always head to the library and select a quiet corner within the earshot of some group of conversing mages, trying to overhear what they spoke of, but the chances of obtaining some useful information this way were very slim.

There was also another option, and after a brief moment of deliberation she decided to pursue it, rising and heading out, finding her way out of the old fortress, walking along the gravel path of the picturesque park on the way to the small Chantry. It was a beautiful morning, sun already high in the sky and burning bright, Bethany deciding to stop along the way, taking a seat on one of the wooden benches and simply enjoying the wonderfully warm weather that made her wish her mage robes didn't have such thick protective padding. Distracting chirping of birds in the nearby trees made her realize that she was in no hurry to reach the Chantry, especially with the knowledge that Mother Avris was still conducting the morning prayer.

A pair of loyalists passed her sitting on the bench, talking loudly about the scandalous behavior of the Libertarians, and shortly after that, Bethany saw that flocks of mages and templars were starting to leave the Chantry, indicating that the collective prayer was over and she rose from the chair and resumed walking towards her destination.

Putting on her best disappointed expression, Bethany stepped inside the Chantry, immediately finding herself subjected to Avris' angry glare. "You are late, girl," she snapped. "Again."

"Mother Avris, please," Hannah, the other Mother of the Chantry spoke pleadingly. "I'm sure Bethany did not mean to offend."

"I am beyond such petty offences," Avris shrugged indifferently, her face impassive, not giving away any emotions. "It is insulting the Maker that she should be mindful of."

"I will seek forgiveness in a prayer, later," Bethany said quietly, her head properly and respectfully bowed. "I was delayed by some terrible incident with the Senior Enchanters... did you hear of it?"

Avris shook her shoulders dismissively. "What can you expect from a fraternity like the Libertarians." She gave Bethany another of those burning green-eyed stares. "You would do well to give them a wide berth, girl."

"I am with the Aequitarians, Mother Avris," Bethany spoke humbly.

"The Maker only blesses one of the fraternities, the Loyalists," Avris snapped. "If you wish to earn his forgiveness and receive his blessings, you would seek to join their ranks."

"Really, Mother Avris," Hannah huffed. "We are all Maker's children, and it is not our place to demand such things. Bethany's choice is hers to make, and she will be always welcomed amongst us in the Chantry, no matter what."

"You were always too idealistic, Hannah," Avris shook her head, clearly disagreeing, turning back towards Bethany. "If you wish to pray then do so. Maker knows you probably have a lot to make up for. How old are you, girl, twenty-two? Where do they find apostates running around as old as you? Or should I say maleficar?"

"Please, Mother Avris, this is too much!" Hannah protested. "Bethany does not deserve such treatment!"

"I... I should leave... I do not wish to... cause offence," Bethany whispered, mustering a teary-eyed expression. She felt wetness on her cheeks, the tears were always quick to summon, all she needed to do was to focus on Merrill, her missing love, and the fears that she might be dead.

"No! No, I... may have misspoken," Avris interrupted her, looking very uncomfortable at seeing her tears. "Mother Hannah is right. You will always be welcomed in the Chantry."

_So she's not completely immune to tears. Well done, Bethany,_ she mentally congratulated herself. "Before I submit myself to prayer, there was... something I wished to ask..." she spoke, humbly and quietly. "They only just told me about something horrible that took place here recently... something about murders?" She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. "I was so scared when they told me..."

"There, there," she could feel Mother Hannah putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It has been some time since the last of those murders. There is nothing to suggest that they will repeat."

"Keep praying to the Maker, girl, and he will keep you safe," Avris advised confidently. "Those two Aequitarians who died never set their foot in the Chantry to pray. Perhaps it was a way of Maker to mete out his justice."

_Interesting that she should say that. I wonder if she would be capable to be the hand carrying out the Maker's 'justice',_ Bethany mused to herself. "But... they also killed a templar!"

"One who's misguided ideals had allowed for many apostates to slip their righteous grasp," Avris fumed with anger. "If there was anyone deserving to feel the Maker's anger, it was Knight-Lieutenant Willsey."

"Rumors have always persisted about him not only actively helping apostates, but also sabotaging the plans of his fellow templars, warning their targets in advance and helping them hide," Hannah agreed. "Knight-Commander Leonidas was investigating his activities, but... it seems someone got there first."

"I still say it's horrible," Bethany sobbed. "And with us all being confined here... doesn't it mean that the murderer is still present, in the midst of mages? Or... I beg forgiveness for even saying so, the templars?"

With a corner of her eye, Bethany saw Hannah and Avris exchanging uncomfortable stares. "Come child, there is no need to worry, let us sit and pray together," she felt Hannah taking her by the hand as they both dropped on their knees. As Avris left the room, Bethany felt Hannah leaning closer to her, warm breath tickling her ear as the Mother whispered to her. "I should not tell you this, Bethany, but the Divine has sent someone to investigate these murders. One of her most trusted agents." The warm hand of the Chantry Mother squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. "If anyone can get to the bottom of this mystery, it is her. You no longer have a reason to worry, Bethany."

_Oh dear, if they only knew,_ Bethany chuckled inwardly, feeling strange sense of accomplishment at her successful manipulations. _I'm starting to get really good at this making people eat from my palm and generally doing what I want them to do... and what an amazing thrill it is to observe,_ she realized, slightly disturbed at her own feelings.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Hey folks, long time no see in the Dragon Age section. :) I figure it's time I pick up and finish this story once and for all, before DA3 drops! _

_It's been a challenge to actually remember all the twists and plots I had planned for the tale, so the first few chapters now might be a bit rough before I get into the groove. Let's just start with a nice and easy chapter with the two Hawke sisters on their respective investigations. _

_As a reminder, I have given my Hawke a particular backstory, tying the Hawke/Amell ancestry to an old Imperium bloodline. They are descended from the Krayvan family, best known for a Magister Eremius Krayvan, founder of Kirkwall and in this AU, also one of the five magisters who traveled to the Golden City. This sometimes makes certain ancient evils recognize the Hawke bloodline, leading to interesting developments..._

_That said, please enjoy this latest chapter. :) _

**Chapter 13**

_Circle of Magi, Nevarra City_

_'Why have you chosen to follow me, old friend? I thought we had an agreement.'_ There was a shape of someone familiar behind the hissing voice in her dreams. The shine of a well kept armor, the glowing sunrays of the Chantry emblazoned on it. _'You will stay out of my plans, my friend, or you will regret it.'_

She tried to see the face of the man speaking to her, but to no avail, the helmet was blocking her view. _'I will kill you, if need be.' _For some reason she felt she knew the man behind the insidious whispers, but was still unable to place his face. _'I cannot compel you to do as I wish. Your blood is your shield. But if you interfere, you will be destroyed.'_

Bethany woke with a loud gasp, her breathing ragged as she took deep breaths, trying to calm herself, then realizing that someone was frantically banging on the doors of her room. She quickly jumped out of the bed and smoothened out her hair as best as she could before opening the doors.

It was Sylvin and Elenia, both looking distraught and close to tears. "Maker, there's been another murder," the human girl spoke hurriedly. "Betty, we're so scared! I don't want to be an Aequitarian anymore!"

"I'm getting out too, before I end up dead," Elenia nodded.

"Aequitarian... wait, Carsini?" Bethany blinked. The girls nodded with sorrowful expressions on their faces. _Damnation, I must get there fast before the crowds trample everything!_ she thought frantically, ducking back inside to quickly dispose of her nightgown and throw the robes over her head, stopping briefly by the washing basin to make herself a bit more presentable. "When did it happen?" she asked, popping back out in the corridor.

"They just found him," Sylvin sobbed.

"Where?" Bethany asked, her voice snappish and demanding, surprising the girls.

"His quarters on the fourth floor... our floor," Elenia replied, as Bethany immediately broke into a run towards the stairs. "Betty, where are you going?" the elf cried after her.

"I'll be back soon, get somewhere safe!" Bethany shouted, stopping to turn around and throw the key to her room towards the girls, the shiny object landing at Elenia's feet. "Stay in my room and lock the doors!" she said, the girls immediately obeying.

The crowds on the fourth floor were not nearly as bad as Bethany had feared initially. There were several groups of nosey mages poking around near Carsini's room, and the few templars on the scene had difficulties in stopping them from getting in the way. Someone had sent for Knight-Commander Leonidas, but fortunately he hadn't showed up yet, Bethany worrying that he would immediately order all mages to return to their rooms upon his arrival.

With some careful maneuvering, Bethany had managed to work her way towards the doors of Carsini's quarters. She looked around to make sure nobody was watching her in particular before bending down, almost getting on her knees to take a quick peek at the lock. There were two shallow, fresh scratches on the metal surface. _Sloppy. Someone must have been in a hurry,_ she thought, getting up from the floor.

Knowing that time was growing short, Bethany didn't hesitate poking her head around the doors and peering inside the small quarters. Carsini's body was covered with a black cloth, the man was lying with his face down midway between his bed and the doors, head facing the bed. There was a small hump in the black cloth covering the corpse, the knife still impaled in the man's back.

"How strange..." Bethany whispered, forgetting herself, but receiving an immediate reminder in the shape of a gauntleted fist landing heavily and painfully on her shoulder, jerking her away from the doors. She spun around to stare in the harsh face of the grim Knight-Lieutenant Savina, the pale woman making an unmistakable gesture with her head, ordering Bethany to get out of the way.

"My apologies, Knight-Lieutenant," Bethany uttered quickly, backing off, noticing that the Knight-Commander was now arriving, surrounded by at least a dozen of templars. Knowing that any further investigation here would be impossible, Bethany turned around to leave, her brow furrowed deep in thought.

As she passed one of the alcoves directly before the stairs to lower levels, she heard someone whispering her name. "Bethany, in here," it was Cassandra, urging her to quickly join her.

"Cassandra!" Bethany allowed herself a small smile, happy to see the Seeker, despite the circumstances. "Maker, you were right, they got Carsini!"

"I saw," Cassandra nodded, looking grim. "This is bad. Together with the templars keeping the Libertarian enchanters for questioning and... tests to determine whether blood magic was used, this place is slowly becoming a veritable keg of blackpowder. Did you manage to take a look at the scene of crime?"

"Only a little, Savina got in the way," Bethany shrugged. "And now Leonidas is there, but I managed to catch a few things."

"The lock was forced open yet again," Cassandra said.

"Yes, I saw," Bethany nodded. "Whoever did it was in a hurry, it was a sloppy job."

"With the increased patrols during the night, they would have had less time than before," Cassandra pointed out, Bethany agreeing after a moment of thought. "Anything else?" the Seeker asked, sounding as if she were testing her.

"Well... the positioning of the body was very strange," Bethany remarked.

"You mean that he wasn't killed in his bed like all the others," Cassandra ventured.

"No, not just that," Bethany said thoughtfully. "I mean... he got out of the bed, so something must have awakened him. Whether it was the noise from the murderer picking the lock, or was it when they stepped into his room... he woke up to confront them."

"Go on."

"Well, it's just strange. Someone breaks into your room, wouldn't you get suspicious, angry, or panicking, perhaps start shouting to call for someone?" Bethany asked. "Here's how I see it. He gets up, probably alerted by the noise. Then he sees someone entering his room. He demands to know who they are. Perhaps he summons a mage light and recognizes the one entering. The murderer probably bluffs about the locked door, claiming that he had simply forgotten to lock it. Carsini relaxes. Perhaps they talk a little, in order for him to lower his guard. He was stabbed in the back, remember."

"Carsini was, by all accounts, a very cautious man, slow to trust," Cassandra looked skeptical.

"There must have been someone he trusted implicitly," Bethany mused. "Trusted enough to turn his back on them even after they had arrived unannounced at his room in the middle of the night. This should really narrow down the list of suspects."

"Well, I imagine First Enchanter Torisandrus would be amongst those. Perhaps some of the older Aequitarians, too," Cassandra said. "He never really got involved with the other fraternities."

"That's something, at least," Bethany sighed. "We need to stop this soon, it's putting everyone around here on the edge."

"I agree," Cassandra nodded. "I will also take a look at the murder weapon. The killer would have brought it with them, I'll see if I can trace where it was obtained from. I'll let you know if there are any important news," she said, about to leave, Bethany's hand shooting out to stop the Nevarran.

"Seeker... do you know whether Enchanter Carsini visited the Chantry often?" Bethany asked.

"I believe he did, yes," Cassandra said, looking curious. "Why do you ask?"Surely you don't think that..."

"Oh no... no, not that," Bethany laughed awkwardly, trying to wave off Cassandra's concern. "I just saw him there yesterday, talking with a templar that I did not recognize," she lied quickly, hoping to sound convincing. _If she was going to say that surely I can't suspect a Chantry Mother, then she just doesn't know Avris very well, does she?_

* * *

_Ruins of Kal'Hirol, Deep Roads_

_'Why do you not listen when I urge you to turn back and stop pursuing me, old friend? I sense your blood in the veins of this mortal shell, and I will not hesitate to destroy it if you continue to force my hand.' _Riona Hawke tossed and turned restlessly, a grimace of pain etched on her face as the nightmare continued to hound her throughout her sleep, not letting her go, feeling a disturbingly calm voice slowly speaking as if inside her skull.

_'I can sense this mortal cares deeply for her companion. Even now, he is destined to become my slave... but if you stop pursuing me and leave my domain, as we had agreed many lifetimes ago... I might show mercy.' _Riona shuddered in her sleep again, then crying out as a spike of sharp pain coursed through her, forcing the young mage to open her eyes, breaking free of the frightening nightmare.

The feelings were disconcerting as she slowly opened her eyes, she felt herself drenched in cold sweat, her head seemed to be throbbing with dull, persisting ache, and she had trouble orientating herself in the immediate surroundings. For some inexplicable reason, she felt as if she was moving, which seemed like a ridiculous notion, because she had retired to rest in her sleeping berth back in the camp she had set up with Nathaniel... suddenly, the events of few hours ago came back in a flood of memories, setting up the warding glyphs around the camp, then putting out the fire and settling down in restless but necessary sleep after a whole day of crawling deeper into the dwarven thaig, then waking up twenty minutes later, once Nathaniel had been asleep to... and there her memories were interrupted again, as something heavy hit her temples, almost making her pass out.

_By the Maker, I __**am**__ moving! _Riona suddenly understood, at the same time as she recalled just what she had done once getting up when Nathaniel had began to snore softly. She had tied a bit of rope around his leg, then fastening the other end of the rope around her own ankle, and she still felt it there, being dragged by it, pulling up slightly to shudder from the horrific sight of her lover shuffling forward into the darkness like in a trance, pulling her across the rough path with him, not even noticing that he was dragging Riona along, her back sore from the jagged, sharp rocks and her head had taken several knocks as well, her hair wet with something sticky, likely her blood.

"Nathaniel! Nathaniel, stop! Snap out of it!" she called out, trying not to make too much noise, but the rogue showed no reaction to her words, continuing to pull her forward, the strange dream of possession holding him completely and utterly captivated.

Grunting from the way the rocky ground treated her back, Riona had finally had enough, pulling her leg and with it the rope back with a savage jerk, making Nathaniel stumble, but after a small pause he still continued on doggedly. Swearing, Riona pulled herself up, ignoring the pain, and grabbed the rope with both of her hands before pulling at it with all her might, Nathaniel's leg giving out under him as he collapsed in an undignified heap with a quiet moan.

"Ugh... what... what's going on?" shaking his head, Nathaniel slowly propped himself up to sitting position, looking and sounding just as confused as Riona had been after she had woken up.

"Just take it easy, Nathaniel," Riona said quietly, hoping her voice would make him feel less alarmed. They were far away from their camp and the relative safety it provided, their weapons and armor, and the protective glyphs she had set up around the perimeter, not that they would do much if the darkspawn attacked in masses as was their usual tactic. Here, deep in the darkness, they were completely vulnerable, and the slightest noise could alert their enemies, no doubt lurking somewhere nearby.

"Where are we... what is happening?" he croaked, trying to rise to his feet, slumping back with exhaustion, tripping over the rope still attached to his leg. "Why aren't we in our camp... more importantly, why is there a rope tied around my leg?"

"That rope probably saved your life, Nathaniel," Riona spoke, starting to undo the tight knot squeezing her ankle and minimizing the blood flow to her slightly numb feeling foot. "As for where we are... I don't know, but we should still be close to our camp. I doubt you could have dragged me too far before I woke up."

"Dragged you...?" Nathaniel still sounded utterly baffled in the darkness. "Oh... the rope. But... how did you know?"

"I don't think Velanna left on her own volition," Riona replied, getting up to her feet, trying to put some light pressure on her numb foot, wriggling her toes to get the blood flowing again. She looked around to scan their surroundings, unable to see far in the darkness that ruled in these particular passages. "As for how I knew... I didn't, really, but I suspected. I told you that I sensed that there was something... evil afoot, and by that I didn't just mean the darkspawn. This feels... different." _I don't even know what it is, but I know it is speaking in my head, addressing me as an old acquaintance... speaking of my blood... perhaps my ancestry has to do with it? The Tevinter bloodline of Krayvans? But why... _

"Are you saying that something here is trying to possess us?" Nathaniel asked, sounding a little disbelieving. "What... is it a demon, or something? Is that why you can sense it, as a mage?"

_Does he still doubt me when I am saying that there is something wrong down here? He was clearly not himself just a moment ago, and would have become lost in the passages if not for me!_ "A demon? No... I don't know, maybe... I think it's something else," Riona shrugged, unable to adequately put her feelings into words. "I fear it is something more powerful than a demon... a demon would have found you deeply unappealing for possession, my dear Nathaniel. I hope these words are not a crushing disappointment for you."

"Not in the slightest," Nathaniel muttered, slipping the bit of rope off his leg and throwing it away in the dark before getting up as well. "Anyway, we should find our way back to the camp. We can't hope to help Velanna without our weapons or armor."

Riona gasped, halting, astonished at Nathaniel's words. "After all this... you seriously still want to chase after that elf? You'd risk your life and **mine** for her? Why? I don't even know her, and what I have seen does not particularly endear me towards her! What if this... thing possesses us both and we become lost in this ancient thaig? Do you honestly wish to risk it?"

Nathaniel gave a deep sigh. "Look... let's just get back to the camp," he said tiredly. "We can discuss everything there. Remaining here to argue about it now does not seem like a wise course of action."

"Yes... a fair point," Riona was forced to acknowledge, and moments later Nathaniel began moving back through the passages, after a while asking Riona to summon a pale mage light to help him retrace the steps that had led them away from the campsite.

They had, in fact, been wandering further away from the camp than Riona had thought, and it was a small wonder that she hadn't woken up earlier. The dusty floors of the thaig itself were fairly smooth and as such, Riona reasoned she might have not even noticed being dragged over them.

Eventually, they came across their old campsite, two sleeping berths abandoned suddenly, all of their possessions where they had left them, untouched. But the camp was far from a safe haven. As soon as they began to gather their gear and arm themselves, the trap was sprung. They came out from the shadows, all around them, faces grim and emotionless, set in stone, cloaked figures surrounding them in a circle from which there was no escape. Some of the lost elves had drawn their swords, others were notching burning arrows into their bows, ready to strike should they attempt anything, Riona and Nathaniel standing back to back in the middle of the circle, too frightened to speak or move.

Two figures stepped through the ranks of the elven warriors to face Riona and Nathaniel. One of them she was familiar with, even if something in Velanna's face had changed to make her almost unrecognizable, no trace left of the passionate, angry and argumentative expression she had worn before, now her eyes were dull and listless as she stared at them in a way that made Riona feel almost as if Velanna was looking through and past her. The other elf appeared more lively, wearing similar robes to what she recalled Marethari had worn during their encounters on the Sundermount, making Riona realize that the woman before her was Seranni, Velanna's sister and the new 'Keeper' of the clan.

"Velanna! Get away from them!" Nathaniel spoke urgently, trying to reach out and grab the elf's hand, making Riona wince inwardly. _He speaks as if he would not realize that she is possessed. I guess it is difficult to accept._

"Do not bother," Seranni spoke, her voice carrying a deeper undertone than it should have, making her sound menacingly alien. "She is mine now, and with me shall she remain. To you I ask..." the white-haired elf with the gaunt, pale face looked firmly at Riona, the young mage squirming from the scrutinizing expression in the sunken, lifeless eyes. "Will you honor our agreement and turn back? Or will I be forced to destroy you?"

Riona was about to answer, but unfortunately Nathaniel got there first, turning to her with harshly spoken questions. "Why is speaking to you like an old acquaintance? How do you know her?" he asked, then looking back at Seranni. "You... you are more than you seem, are you not? Just... just who are you?" he demanded.

Seranni gave him a condescending smile. "You do not recognize me, do you? Yes, you would not, you were blind then, many moons ago, when you and your fellows thought me defeated by your swords and your magic. But Seranni... yes, young Seranni was hiding in the shadows nearby... just for that one possibility that you would reject the plan I proposed."

"You... by the Maker! It is... you!" Nathaniel gasped, Riona feeling him tensing next to her, fearing that her lover would do something unreasonable and suddenly attack the possessed elves, getting them both instantly killed. "Riona, it's the Architect! He's possessing her, he did not die in the Dragonbone Wastes, somehow... he has taken hold of Seranni!"

"Silence," Seranni, or the Architect, spoke. "You were inconsequential then, and you are just as inconsequential now. My question was to her," the elven woman pointed a thin, bony finger at Riona again.

_I have no idea who this Architect is, but I think I can guess... he must somehow know my ancestors from the days of the Imperium, sense and recognize the Krayvan bloodline... perhaps a powerful demon or worse, maybe another of those Forbidden Ones like Xebenkeck... definitely not someone to be trifled with, not in an impossible situation such as this... and I am definitely not throwing my life away for a hopeless cause._

"Release Velanna and we will leave," Nathaniel demanded, earning a glare from Seranni/Architect.

_Is he trying to get us killed? Who allowed him to decide for me, when the question was not even posed to him?_ Riona felt a flush of anger surging through her. In a flash, before anyone could react, she grabbed her mage staff from the ground. Guided by pure instinct, likely self-preservation, she swung the staff, hitting Nathaniel squarely along the back of his head, watching him sink to the ground with a quiet groan. "We will leave, and I promise not to interfere in your plans," she told Seranni/Architect, bowing her head, praying to have appeased this ancient evil that she was currently in no position to challenge.

"Wisely decided," Seranni nodded, actually looking grateful and relieved about her decision. _It acts almost as if didn't want to kill me... how very strange... I wonder why?_ "In that case, it is time for us to leave," the elf woman said, as the elven warriors began to retreat from the campsite.

"Where are you going? What are your plans?" Riona called after the procession, slowly walking down the passages leading deeper into the depths, standing over the prone body of her lover.

"Deeper. All the way down. To rest, to prepare. But do not worry..." there was a deep disturbing chuckle, reaching her from the darkness. "You will hear from us soon again..."

As Riona continued to stand over Nathaniel's unconscious body, the only thing she could think of was why in the world should she not worry about the prospect of facing the Architect again...


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Sorry about missing the last Monday, but the weekend before was really busy and this week with the release of Omega DLC for ME3 and Baldur's Gate Enhanced Edition, I've been too busy playing games to really focus on writing. That said, chapter 14 is ready and the next one is almost done too, so I should have something for the next Monday as well. _

_Enjoy! Or try to. :) _

**Chapter 14**

_Circle of Magi, Nevarra City_

The nightmares continued to plague Bethany for the next three nights as well, growing more and more intense, letting her slowly catch a better glimpse of the images haunting her vivid dreams. She always woke with heavy, throbbing head, hampering her ability to recall exactly what she had seen, but she felt that the insidious voice whispering in her mind was becoming more and more recognizable, allowing her to slowly put all the pieces of the puzzle together.

_That voice speaks of my blood, and why I am special because of it... they must know of my ancestry, it can be nothing else but that. It senses our Imperial bloodline... but nobody here would know of it... in fact, the only one who could possess such knowledge would be... sweet merciful Maker, it could only be Corypheus, surely? I must make inquiries, ask if anyone has seen Cullen, whether he has arrived in Nevarra or here at the Circle... _

But her inquiries seemed to fall on deaf ears, the few templars she had addressed with this question simply shrugged and moved on, others began to look at her suspiciously and even in the case of Hammer, the giant Knight-Lieutenant, outright threateningly, forcing Bethany to stop her questioning, leaving her with nothing to do but wait until she could make contact with Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast again.

The effects of this strange presence within the Circle were beginning to visibly affect everyone present, both mages and templars. Many mages were complaining about spiking headaches and feeling unwell, but they were very careful not to say too much, remembering what had happened to the Libertarian enchanters, Freyd and Kiellin, both still kept tightly locked away in tiny cells, until the Templars figured out whether there was something to these suspicions about the pair being involved in blood magic. This all caused the mages to try and behave as normally as they could manage, attempting to hide any signs of being affected by some strange visions and headaches, fearing that admission of such symptoms would get them locked away with the two Libertarians.

And these signs grew in strength as days went by. Bethany began to notice things like more and more mages muttering, talking to themselves, sometimes aloud, looking around fearfully as they caught themselves, rushing away immediately before she could confront them. Sometimes she saw people, both mages and templars, walking into walls, struck by dizzy spells as they tried to rise from the table, stumbling and taking a tumble down the stairs, still everyone tried to insist that they were feeling fine and that it was just clumsiness on their part.

Earlier in the morning Bethany had tried to seek out the two young Aequitarian girls, Sylvin and Elenia, with whom she had struck something of a friendship. She had managed to sneak up on the elven girl, Elenia, near the kitchens, the young mage sitting on a wooden bench with her shoulders slumped, appearing to be speaking to someone even if Bethany couldn't see anyone else nearby. "Yes, Master... I know where the Greymouth Cave is... of course I know how to get there, it is not far... I will be happy to show you..." Bethany felt her heart skipping like mad from hearing the other girl speaking something so strange and disturbing, freezing and hoping that Elenia would go on and reveal something else, but then the girl had stopped, almost as if sensing her presence.

Elenia would not answer anything about this Greymouth Cave, claiming that she did not know a place by such name. When Bethany had asked about Sylvin, her friend with whom Elenia seemed to be joined at the hip, she had not wanted to reveal anything either, eventually muttering that Sylvin had been feeling a little unwell, then uttering hasty apologies and quickly withdrawing before Bethany could press her for more.

Since nobody would confess about feeling poorly, denying this mysterious sickness, Bethany tried instead to ask her fellow mages more about this Greymouth Cave, but alas, found herself faced with the same impassive stares, everybody as one claiming they had never heard of it. As more and more time went by, Bethany began to feel very alarmed and frightened, almost as if finding herself to be the only one sane in what began to look increasingly like a mental asylum. There was a desire to lock herself in the safety of her room, fearing that this strange presence might compel the others to turn on her, but she was desperate to find at least someone who might have resisted these visions, unwilling to give up on Cassandra just yet.

It was becoming increasingly clear that the murder mystery had by now shifted to be the secondary goal of her purpose here. It was far more important to understand what had led Corypheus here and what he intended to do with the Circle and everyone present... and stop him from harming these people, or at the very least, escape with her life intact, if she was powerless to do more than that.

Growing increasingly paranoid and frightened, she spent most of the afternoon avoiding the others, sneaking off to the library and trying to find something on this Greymouth Cave in the few geography books stored in the bookshelves. It did not take her much time to find what she was looking for, though when she began to read, she could not understand what was so special about this cave. It was fairly well known to those living in the vicinity of Nevarra City, the entrance looming roughly six miles outside the city limits, a popular destination of eager would-be adventurers, or young couples looking for a few thrills and some privacy. It was also clear that most of those who had denied knowing about this cave had lied, though why they had done so, Bethany was at a loss... aside the speculation in one of the books that the cave system stretched deeper than assumed, there was absolutely nothing remarkable about it.

Puzzled and worried, Bethany had found a secluded alcove in one of the upper floors of the old fortress, from where she could observe the courtyard and everyone coming and going to the Circle, anxiously watching, wondering whether she would spot the former Knight-Lieutenant, and following Meredith's death, Knight-Commander of the Circle of Kirkwall, Ser Cullen. Instead, after more than an hour of sitting, waiting and slowly beginning to shiver, she was relieved to spot the familiar figure of Seeker Cassandra entering the fortress. Bethany immediately jumped to her feet and dashed downstairs, trying to find a good spot where to intercept the Seeker, praying to Maker that Cassandra had arrived with the intention to find her and inquire about the results of the investigation.

She had to wait for almost two more hours, afraid to venture further downstairs where the majority of the templars milled about and mages rarely dared to enter, having no business to intrude upon templar dealings. Eventually, Cassandra reappeared in her view, looking thoughtful as she climbed upstairs, the raven-haired warrior shaking her head and muttering something at herself, making Bethany deathly afraid that she had also come under the evil spell of Corypheus. _But I must speak to her anyway, she is my only way out of this place, and if I do not take this risk and trust her to fulfill her promise... I will never get out of here alive. _

With this thought, Bethany reached out from the dark storage room she had been hiding in, grabbing Cassandra by the hand and wincing as the Seeker's other gauntleted hand came around to squeeze her in a stony, painful grasp, almost making her cry out in pain. "Bethany! Maker, don't scare me like that... I could have cut you in two with my sword!" Cassandra gasped, giving the young mage a reprimanding stare.

"Oh... I'm sorry," Bethany managed nervously, hiding her trembling hands behind her back. "I... needed to speak with you, urgently."

"Well, I am here now," Cassandra replied, echo of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, before she looked around cautiously to see whether there was anyone in sight. "How goes the investigation? Have you found something new about the murders?"

Bethany blinked, wide-eyed, unable to quite hide her surprise. _How can she still be concerned about that investigation? Doesn't she sense what is going on here?_ she thought rapidly. "Not much... I have run into some problems recently," she said carefully, not wanting to appear too agitated. _Cassandra may be on my side, but I don't want to risk the Seeker starting to suspect that I am possessed or worse... and if I start to speak about voices in my head, she just might begin thinking that. _

"What kind of problems?" Cassandra asked, looking at her curiously.

"Well... just people all around acting a little odd..." Bethany replied vaguely. "You... haven't noticed anything strange? People not wanting to speak with you, deliberately avoiding you, not making much sense when you speak with them?"

"That's the standard reception that a Seeker gets in every Circle where they show up," Cassandra smirked. "Nobody is really thrilled to share things with us, even the templars. Sometimes the templars in particular. Though..." she froze for a moment, tapping an elegant finger against her chin. "I must say, those guards were acting a little strange, as if they had been asleep. I had to yell at them several times until they snapped out of their slumber and then they would not let me in, even if I am certain that they recognized who I was."

"You're not spending the nights here, by the way?" Bethany asked. _There has to be an explanation why she's not affected. Not everyone can have an Imperium magister amongst their ancestors! _"I thought they had given you some guest quarters."

"That is true, but the past few nights I have been staying at my parent's estate," Cassandra explained, wondering a little about the relieved expression on Bethany's face. "They demanded that I visit them, and proved to be surprisingly civil company for once, insisting that I spend more time with them."

"That's good, that's very good," Bethany smiled nervously.

"You are deeply worried about something, I can see," Cassandra said suddenly, cutting straight to the chase. "Are you in danger? Did you reveal too much by questioning someone? Tell me what is wrong and I will see what I can do to protect you, Bethany."

"I... I don't know if I'm in danger... I'm not sure, I don't think so..." Bethany muttered lamely, not sure how to explain her predicament. _I fear that Corypheus is trying to take over the entire Circle just like he did with the Carta in Kirkwall... Maker, doesn't that sound just a bit too farfetched to believe? _"Oh... there's just one thing," suddenly something occurred to her. "Cassandra, can you get information about the visitors coming to the Circle? Are there any records somewhere?"

"Yes, the guards keep the records at the entry gate guardhouse," the Seeker replied. "But these murders have been committed by someone within the Circle, I'm sure we both agreed on that?"

"We did, but..." Bethany said slowly, her thoughts spinning frantically. "I thought maybe our murderer has an accomplice," she tried eventually.

Cassandra simply shook her head resolutely. "It would be better if you were honest with me, Bethany. There is something that you are not telling me."

Bethany let out a deep sigh, her deep brown eyes shifting nervously as she faced the Seeker's stern stare. "I... alright, I think there's something else going on here... something not connected with the murders... and I wanted you to check the arrival records to look for one particular name..."

"Who would that be?" Cassandra inquired.

"You might remember him from your visit to the Kirkwall Circle... a young Knight-Lieutenant there by the name of Cullen," Bethany explained.

"Cullen, yes, I do remember him from both Kirkwall and Ferelden," the Seeker nodded. "What makes you believe that he might have come here?"

"I thought I saw him amongst the templars the other day, and I was frightened that he might recognize me or learn of my presence here," Bethany quickly lied, this time managing to sound convincing. "He loved to torment me back in Kirkwall, and I... I guess I was frightened that he might be eager to punish me for escaping from his clutches." _Forgive me for having to speak ill of you, but I must make her believe my story or all will be lost._

"Understandable," Cassandra nodded, looking a little upset. She took Bethany's hands in hers, offering a comforting squeeze and managing a supportive smile. "Don't worry, I promised to keep you safe and I will. Now wait here while I go check the records at the guardhouse."

And with that, Cassandra rushed off, leaving Bethany alone, waiting in the small storage room next to the stairwell leading down to the floor filled with templars. Time seemed to crawl by as she waited for the raven-haired Seeker's return, the few minutes feeling like hours and when Cassandra finally reappeared before her, Bethany couldn't stop herself from reaching out and briefly touching the other woman's arm, merely for comfort, to make sure that she was there, real.

"I'm sorry, Bethany... but there's no mention of Knight-Lieutenant Cullen in the records," Cassandra informed her, looking hopeful about being able to relieve the young mage's obvious distress. "He's not here in the Circle of Nevarra City, I can assure you."

"Yes, I see... thanks for checking that for me, Cassandra, I truly appreciate it," Bethany spoke, not looking quite as relieved as she tried to sound. _I guess he must have arrived in secret, or... maybe someone smuggled him inside, a fellow templar, a possessed accomplice... I just feel that Cullen has brought Corypheus here, I know it to be true!_

"Now then, before someone has interrupted us... have you found anything new about the murders?" Cassandra inquired, casting quick glances left and right, making sure nobody was approaching the stairwell. "Maker, it certainly is quiet here this afternoon."

"I'm telling you there's something weird going on, Cassandra," Bethany whispered, finally unable to keep the truth to herself any longer. "Everyone's been complaining about headaches and dizziness over the past few days, there's something weird going on here!"

"Hmm," Cassandra rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "That is worrying if true... but you are unaffected, yes? I wonder why..."

"Maybe because I'm a recent arrival and this is something that has been at work for a while here?" Bethany tried, having the presence of mind to conjure a believable explanation that would save her from having to reveal the delicate truth of her ancestry.

"Yes, that could be it," the Seeker agreed after another pause. "And you don't think that this could be related to the murders? Perhaps we should not exclude that the two events are linked."

"I suppose they could be related..." Bethany shrugged helplessly. "What are you thinking of?"

"I think you should continue your investigation, Bethany, but you need to be even more careful," Cassandra spoke warningly. "I think you should also try and appear affected by this mysterious malady, do you think you can act the part convincingly?" Bethany nodded quickly at that. "What if someone else here is unaffected? What if they are the culprit behind the plot? Perhaps they are our assassin? Pretend to be suffering from the headaches and dizziness, and perhaps our suspect will reveal themselves to you."

"That... is not a bad idea," Bethany nodded quickly. "I will do that, though so far I have not noticed anyone sticking out in the crowd, so to speak... maybe they're acting too? Oh, and Cassandra?" she briefly touched the other woman's hand again. "Please tell me you're not going to spend the night here, I would hate to see you fall under that spell."

"Don't worry, Bethany, I won't stay the night," Cassandra offered a comforting squeeze in return. "I will remain here for a few hours, try and dig up some clues, see if I can sense any malevolent influences somewhere that could be the cause for something like this."

"Oh, good... I'd just hate for something bad to happen to you," Bethany smiled uneasily. "Someone has to get me out of here afterwards..." _And hopefully I can get through this whole mess in one piece..._

* * *

_Knotwood Hills, Arling of Amaranthine_

Riona Hawke sat on the ground, elbows propped against her knees, chin buried in her palms, the young mage deep in thought as she watched the dark entrance to the passages leading to the dwarven thaig of Kal'Hirol and the Deep Roads below. Nothing had emerged from the caves for several hours now, following their escape, the young woman having to drag her lover out of the depths of the thaig, Nathaniel remaining unconscious after she herself had knocked him out cold with her staff.

_I guess she... it was honest when it made its promise not to follow us,_ Riona thought, recalling her conversation with Seranni, or to be more accurate, with the entity known as the Architect. _Wish I hadn't whacked him quite so hard,_ she mused, staring at Nathaniel's prone form, now slowly beginning to stir. _He's probably not going to be happy about that,_ she sighed audibly, feeling a growing sense of unease about the whole situation. _That someone would just be able to sense your ancestry like that... such a creepy, disturbing feeling._

"Ungh..." her musings were interrupted that very moment by Nathaniel moaning, opening his eyes and then immediately wincing from pain. "Maker..." he breathed out, remaining lying on the ground, where Riona had settled him on a bedroll. He gingerly reached out with his hand to touch the back of his head where Riona had struck him, wincing again as his fingers explored the massive bump the size of a small egg. "What the... everything's in a fog... what happened... Riona, are you here? Where are we?"

"I'm here, Nathaniel," Riona replied, immediately jumping off the rock she had chosen as her vantage point and coming to sit next to him. "We're just outside the caves leading into the Deep Roads. I had to carry you out."

"Carry me... oh... it's starting to come back to me now... so it wasn't a dream after all. The Architect is alive..." Nathaniel groaned, still unable to rise, trying to gather his strength. "And... you hit me on the head, did you not? That blow came from behind... where you stood..."

"If you even dare thinking yourself betrayed, I suggest that you reconsider," Riona replied harshly. "You were doing your best to get us both killed by Seranni and her clan! What on Thedas possessed you to risk with our lives? No... wait, I think I answered that question already... Architect must have been whispering in your mind."

"I... yes... I think you must be right," Nathaniel said quietly, managing to prop himself up on his elbows. "If... if I had all my senses intact, I would never have endangered your life like that... not for Velanna's sake. You... you believe me when I say that, please say you do?" he looked at her, a little desperate. "You know how I feel about you, Riona."

"Yes. Yes, I do," she answered hoarsely. "It's just... I understand that you were not yourself... it's just going to take a little time until... no, don't look at me like that," she managed a small, brave smile as Nathaniel appeared slightly horrified from her words. "This won't change anything between us, I promise. Not in the long run... if... if you still are considering that..."

"Of course I am," Nathaniel smiled through the considerable pain of the headache. "I would very much like to consider this... long run," he added, with Riona's help getting up into a sitting position, gingerly starting to gather his belongings. "I'm just wondering... it was a strange way for the Architect to speak with you... as if he knew you, which should be impossible..."

"I did not even knew about this Architect until you told me about him," Riona shrugged, quickly trying to think of a convincing lie to calm Nathaniel down. "My training as a mage has made me more capable at resisting influences like his... and your last meeting with him ended in violence, so perhaps that is why he chose to address me instead."

"I suppose so," Nathaniel shrugged, wincing again from the unwisely sharp movement. "Still... doesn't really explain why he even allowed us to leave."

"I hope you're not complaining," Riona grumbled, getting slightly annoyed at Nathaniel's questioning, unwilling to disclose the whole truth to him, at the same time beginning to feel worried about slipping up in this tangled web of lies and half-truths that could end up damaging their relationship.

"Not really complaining, no," Nathaniel managed a brief chuckle, continuing to pack away the bedroll. "As soon as we return to the Vigil's Keep, I will need to write to the Grey Wardens. They must be informed at once about the reemergence of this old threat."

"That seems prudent," Riona nodded. _And perhaps it is time that I finally get in touch with my friends in Kirkwall... Flemeth warned me about not contacting Bethany, but that does not mean that I could not write to Aveline and ask her about my sister... something sinister is stirring in Thedas, and I think Bethany should be aware that there are ancient beings of old Tevinter Imperium who can sense our ancestry... even if they were magnanimous enough not to kill me on this occasion... it would be foolish of me to easily dismiss something as this Architect... _


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_Circle of Magi, Nevarra City_

After suffering through another night filled with haunting nightmares and the ever more insistent voice growing louder in her head, Bethany woke trembling with fear of what she might discover once she ventured out of her room on this early morning. She tried to delay leaving for as long as she could, pacing around restlessly, stopping by the mirror countless times to check her appearance, worried about how pale her face looked, yawning now and then from the increasing nervousness, feeling her stomach bubbling and growling from stress and hunger.

Eventually, she was forced to head for the doors and open them, or risk missing the breakfast altogether, but as she did so, a small note fell from the crack in the doors and landed at her feet. She nimbly bent down and unrolled the small bit of parchment. Unsurprisingly, it was from Cassandra.

_'Morning, Bethany,'_ the Seeker wrote. _'I found at least two people on the Circle grounds who are acting completely normally. Maybe you should speak with them and find out why they are not affected. It could be that the Chantry mothers are simply too far from the center of this influence, living separately from the others? Or perhaps their faith truly is their shield... I leave it to you to find out. Take care, Cassandra.'_

_Hmm, I guess it's probably the distance, yes... though this points to Mother Avris again, so I guess it could be more..._ Bethany nodded to herself thoughtfully, looking around the strangely empty hallway. Usually by this time some mages would be returning from the dining hall. _That's a little weird. And so quiet too... almost as if I'm all alone here! _

Startled by that thought, she abandoned her room and rushed out in the hallway, before catching herself. _No, wait Bethany... don't panic, remember your ruse... what if the others are still here and I'm just going to rush in on them all panicking and agitated? I'd just give myself away... no, I need to take things slowly, remember to act as if I'm affected by the same feeblemindedness as the others..._

Few moments later, when she finally got to the end of the hallway and began to descend towards the second floor and the dining hall, a very confused looking Loyalist Enchanter Washa wandered by her, walking slowly through the corridor, using her hand to support herself against the wall, and Bethany doubted she was doing so just because her venerable age was catching up with her. _Okay, this is getting progressively worse... need to appear even more rattled myself,_ she told herself, causing herself to stumble as she shuffled past two other mages, one of them the First Enchanter Torisandrus himself.

By the time she finally arrived at the dining hall, it was completely empty. There was still food left on the tables, much of it untouched, as if only a few had bothered to have their meals this morning, and the kitchen staff were strangely absent as well, usually by this time they would have already started cleaning up the tables and preparing for dinner. As Bethany took her seat at the table, she quickly realized that there was something completely off about the food as well. The bread was stale and at least several days old, the butter looked to have melted several times during the heat of the midday only to become solid overnight, but it looked disgusting an inedible. The milk had gone sour long time ago, and Bethany's stomach made a dangerous lurch when she almost tasted the disgusting fare by accident.

In the end, she had to settle for some stale bread with yesterday's jam and a glass of water, the rest of the food having become unusable. _It's already so bad they don't even remember about their everyday duties and obligations! If the templars are affected so, I could probably walk out of here without repercussions! But... despite the danger I am in, it would defeat the purpose of why I came here in the first place... to gain the Seeker's trust, to make amends. _

Having finished her meal in disturbing silence, Bethany rose and left the dining hall. The posts where a pair of templar guards usually stood, ever watchful and carefully listening in on what the mages were discussing over their meals, were now vacant and abandoned. There was barely any sound coming from the kitchens either, usually at this time the cook and his assistants would already be elbows deep in preparing the dinner. Before heading outside into the park in the courtyard of the Circle fortress, Bethany made sure to make a stop at Sylvin and Elenia's room, finding it locked and nobody inside responding to her frantic knocking. Seeing a templar gingerly rounding the corner and approaching her, Bethany stopped all her attempts to rouse the girls and made sure to withdraw with wobbly steps, hoping not to appear suspiciously sprightly.

At least outside everything appeared normal, the sun bright in the sky and the birds chirping loudly in the trees, ignorant of whatever evil was spreading throughout the fortress itself. However, the unease quickly came over Bethany again, as she noticed that the picturesque park was completely empty. On a beautiful day like this, it should have been full with mages, walking around and debating Circle politics or theory of magecraft with each other while enjoying the warmth of the sun, but right now, she was the only one making the walk across the gravel path leading to the small Chantry.

_Should I pretend to be affected by this feeblemindedness to the Chantry mothers?_ Bethany thought, as she made the last few steps towards the doors leading into the Chantry. _If Mother Avris is somehow involved then perhaps I should, but I don't believe they are aware of the plot by Cullen, or rather Corypheus... let's just see what their reaction to seeing me is like.. I can tailor my response accordingly to that. _

Mother Hannah was the first to appear from the small side-room, having heard the creaking of the doors as Bethany entered. She looked a little surprised to see Bethany, but her pleasant face quickly blossomed in a welcoming smile, urging the young mage inside. "Bethany, it is so good to see you!" Mother Hannah exclaimed, leading Bethany towards the statue of Andraste at the front of the main hall. "Mother Avris and I were beginning to worry, since we had nobody from the Circle joining us for the morning prayer... it was highly unusual. We were deeply concerned about the mages and the templars possibly coming to blows."

"I didn't notice anything like that," Bethany smiled faintly. "Where is Mother Avris, by the way?"

"Oh, she went to the fortress to speak with Knight-Commander Leonidas," Hannah explained. "Mother Avris is a very devout servant of the Maker, but oftentimes... not very patient. She went to make inquiries as to what is going on... did you not run into her on your way here?" the Chantry Mother asked, Bethany shaking her head in quick denial. "Well, you must have just missed her. Did you come here to pray, Bethany, or simply to talk? I would be happy to join you in either."

"A talk would suit me just fine," Bethany nodded, feeling a little more relaxed, knowing that Avris was not present at the moment. "Tell me, Mother Hannah..." she began, feeling as if she could trust the other woman more than the gruff, abrasive Avris. "Aside from nobody showing up for the morning prayer... have you noticed anyone else acting strangely? Either mages or the templars?"

Hannah looked at her curiously, thinking for a while, then shaking her head. "We had very little traffic yesterday as well, come to think of it," she finally admitted. "The only visitor we had the whole afternoon was that Chantry Seeker, Lady Cassandra Pentaghast. Most interesting woman, even if she did ask a whole lot of confusing questions."

"I see... yes, I imagine these Seekers lead interesting lives," Bethany smiled, nodding distractedly, wondering whether coming here was not a waste of time. Mother Hannah was clearly not possessed and also did not know anything useful, and Avris was away, speaking with the templar commander at the fortress. _Well... maybe I could just kill time in small talk with Mother Hannah until Avris returns and I can perhaps learn something more, _she decided, continuing to pepper Mother Hannah with all sorts of meaningless questions, just to pass the time.

It was perhaps half an hour later when Mother Avris returned, shutting the doors behind her with such force that it made small bits of plaster fall from the ceiling. "Food poisoning!" the older Chantry Mother ranted. "Food poisoning does not make one into an addled fool! There is something wrong..." her eyes then fell upon Bethany. "And what are **you** doing here? How come you don't have this mysterious stomach upset that has made everyone in the Circle acting like blundering idiots?"

_What stomach upset? Oh... Knight-Commander Leonidas must have used that excuse to explain their strange behavior... what did we have for dinner yesterday... oh, of course!_ "I'm afraid that the wild mushroom sauce was not to my liking... fortunate in retrospect," Bethany offered, hoping that her explanation would suffice.

"Fortunate? Suspicious, more like," Avris barked back, making Hannah glare at her.

"Honestly, Avris, and you wonder why people do not wish to visit the Chantry when you harass them so!" she exclaimed accusingly.

"I do not like this, Hannah. Knight-Commander Leonidas was..." Avris began, then cutting herself short and looking at Bethany again. "Girl, I think you should run back to the Circle and lock yourself in your room. I pray that I am wrong, but..."

"Why, what is happening?" Bethany asked, wide-eyed, convincingly feigning panic.

"That is not for you to know, now go!" Avris ordered, quickly ushering her outside, ignoring Hannah's protests. "Leave us, now! What I have to say is for Hannah's ears only."

"I... oh, of course... I'm sorry," Bethany managed a sob as she quickly got up and dashed for the doors, leaving the two Chantry mothers behind, talking animatedly in raised voices, but the doors were too thick for her to overhear anything through them.

_So it is like I thought, they have nothing to do with this plot of Corypheus, and the distance from the fortress is probably keeping them safe... which means Cullen is somewhere within the fortress... maybe hiding somewhere in the dungeons..._ the mere thought of it made Bethany shudder, suddenly unwilling to hurry back to the fortress that housed the Circle. In the end, she decided to remain in the park for a while yet before heading back, idly strolling around the little Chantry chapel, finding a comfortable soft patch of white clover and sitting down to think a little, surrounded by the buzzing of bees and sounds of birds.

_It's actually more than likely that the murderer has fallen under Corypheus' spell as well, so that whole investigation becomes a little pointless... whoever they are, they are beyond our reach, most likely... already being punished by no longer being in control of their own thoughts..._ Bethany sighed, as the grim feeling of hopelessness and loneliness of her current situation was beginning to overwhelm her. _If only you were here, Merrill... I could have used your curious, inquisitive mind and quick thinking... but even more than the help you could have provided, I miss your chaste, inexperienced touch and tender kisses, the way your hands explore my body, running across my skin in trembling wonder... oh, Merrill... hey... wait, what is that? _She suddenly jerked upright, opening her eyes and suddenly noticing something on the chapel's wall that shouldn't have been there.

Between two stacks of firewood aligned at the chapel's wall, there was also a chopping block with an axe impaled in it, as well as a broken cupboard now used for storing various tools and implements. Someone had withdrawn some of the tools from the lower shelf, revealing something to Bethany's eyes, something that she was rather stunned at having even noticed, a small yet somehow familiar drawing on the wall. _That looks exactly like some of the glyphs father taught us about,_ she wondered, getting up to her feet and approaching the chapel wall. _At this height, nobody passing by would have ever noticed... only by sitting down there as I did... _

She quickly moved some of the tools aside to reveal the drawing in its entirety, casting fearful glances around, hoping that Avris would not come around to investigate._ Not that she has any reason to, she thinks I'm already back at the fortress, _Bethany thought, beginning to study the intricate drawing. _I think I've seen this before... somebody has drawn a glyph here to protect themselves from the influence of dark magic... unless I have my glyph theory completely wrong, it has been some time. Yes, I better double check this at the Circle's libraries..._

_Wonder who put it up here and why... _the young mage mused thoughtfully. _If they sought to protect themselves against Corypheus and his dark magic, then they lied to me about not knowing anything about what was going on. But maybe it's been here for a long time and someone had just put it there as general protection from untrustworthy mages in the Circle... _Carefully, trying not to make any noise, Bethany continued to explore the Chantry walls, wondering if she would find any other protective glyphs like this, eventually discovering three more, painted with black coal, all either drawn in the nooks and crannies where nobody would think to look, or hidden behind various objects obscuring them.

_This is... a little odd, but perhaps I'm wondering over something trivial... _Bethany told herself, hurrying back to the Circle fortress. _But first, I need to make sure this glyph actually does what I think it does... Maker, it has been way too long since father's lessons... _

* * *

_Land of Shadows, Beyond the Eluvian_

Even though not much could be seen through the mists, constantly swirling all around them, Merrill could sense that the landscape around them had changed, now there was something... solid, some kind of structure behind the thick fog, and on several occasions as the mists shifted, she could swear having caught a glimpse of a smooth wall that was definitely not a natural formation.

Despite the constant aura of fear in Xebenkeck's presence, Merrill could not help but feel excited about the possibilities of what they might find on the other side, once they had managed to pierce the mists and reach the wondrous place that the ancient demoness was leading them to. _By the Creators, I wonder if those walls are made by the ancient elven artisans... could this truly be Arlathan, as I have always dreamt of it?_

The changes in her companions also became more prominent as they continued to walk on. Xebenkeck appeared to be in a frighteningly jovial mood, her tone no longer cold and threatening when ordering them to follow her, now the old Forbidden One actually teased them about one thing or another, in a way that made Merrill's blood run cold in her veins, and Morrigan appeared similarly distressed. And speaking of the raven haired witch, she had gone very silent as of late, looking worried and sometimes even seeking to exchange a comforting word with Merrill, far cry from her earlier edgy and distrustful disposition.

The outlines of dark structures in the swirling fog started to become more and more distinguished, until suddenly Xebenkeck stopped, making Merrill and Morrigan freeze as well, keeping respectful distance from the ancient horror, the young elf reaching out to briefly touch the human witch's hand in reassurance, relieved to feel Morrigan responding by briefly squeezing her hand. Meanwhile, Xebenkeck was walking around in the mists, as if searching for something, even if Merrill could not see anything that would look particularly interesting about this location.

"Yes, this is the place, I think..." Xebenkeck spoke to herself, nodding in satisfaction. "The gates are directly ahead, the barriers are thin... this is the entrance..."

"Entrance to what?" Morrigan wondered aloud, involuntary taking half a step backwards as Xebenkeck swirled around to face them with a disturbing grin.

"Is it Arlathan?" Merrill asked, holding her breath as she waited for Xebenkeck's answer.

"It is an ancient place of wonders and miracles," Xebenkeck replied, Merrill grumbling a little inwardly for not getting a direct answer. _Not that I could expect that from this... creature, _she thought to herself. "And the entrance is... hidden to us, for now."

"And you don't have the means to unlock it?" Morrigan scowled. "Well, that was a fine waste of time."

"Ah, I do have means to gain entry, yes..." the ancient demoness grinned broadly, then turning to Merrill. "You are such a lucky little elf, are you not? It was so very fortunate that we came across our friend Morrigan wandering these wastes... she will now help us enter this ancient place of wonders... by taking the role that would have been yours."

"What are you talking about now?" Morrigan asked harshly, readying her staff, sensing danger. "Explain yourself! I will not be part of your games, creature!"

Before Merrill could prepare herself to aid Morrigan, Xebenkeck was already on the move, gliding swiftly with unnatural speed to close the distance to the young witch. Morrigan barely managed to get off the blast of lightning strike, but the old demoness appeared completely unaffected by it, Morrigan having to duck out of the way at the very last moment. The raven-haired witch was busy trying to summon a roaring fireball to strike Xebenkeck, when the demoness caught up with her, lashing out to strike Morrigan painfully across her arm, forcing her to break off the spell and drop her staff in pain. Xebenkeck's hand shot out and grabbed Morrigan by her throat, beginning to slowly crush her windpipe, even as the young mage desperately tried to claw at the demoness, trying in vain to break free from her grasp.

"What are you doing?" Merrill shouted, despite the fear that she might very well be the next in line after the ancient creature was done with Morrigan. "Let her go!" But Merrill's desperate shouts quickly turned into shrill screams of terror as she watched a sharp dagger of bone suddenly appearing in Xebenkeck's hand, before she plunged it deep into Morrigan's chest, the human gasping and freezing, staring in disbelief at the dagger buried into her flesh to the hilt. As Merrill kept screaming from the top of her lungs, Morrigan's thrashing slowly grew weaker and weaker, the demoness eventually lowering her on the rocky ground and bending down next to her victim.

"By the Creators... you killed her... why did you kill her..." Merrill cried desperately, moving closer towards the demoness with small, hesitant steps, stricken with horror and panic, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"She is not dead yet and won't be for some time," Xebenkeck replied smugly, as Merrill watched her withdrawing the dagger from Morrigan's chest, red blood beginning to flow and pour forth from the deep wound. Merrill felt sick to her stomach as she noticed just what Xebenkeck was doing now, beginning to gather Morrigan's blood and spreading it across her skin, starting to cover herself from head to toe with the blood of the young woman. The ghastly view eventually forced Merrill to turn away and empty what little was left in her stomach, her lithe body shuddering mostly with dry heaves.

"Oh, do not be so sensitive now, little elf," Xebenkeck purred, continuing to work, turning her head to look at Merrill, the elf struggling to keep her gagging reflexes under control. "There is a price for entering this ancient place of wonders... as with the eluvian, blood is the key... if we had not met Morrigan, I would now be bathing in your blood... ah, I almost regret denying myself this pleasure. But you have been a pleasant company, so I will repay with kindness... I will leave something of her to you, so that you can follow me... and discover the answers to all the questions you have chased after for so long..."

"...by the Creators... I... I could not do that... not even to find out whether it is Arlathan..." Merrill muttered, paralyzed with indecision as she realized the choice before her. "Is... is she dead?" she asked then, almost hopefully. _If Xebenkeck has killed her, then it would not matter... I... maybe I could do it then... _

"No, she is still alive, though just barely... but if you take any more blood from her, it will kill her, that much is certain," Xebenkeck replied gleefully, rising from the ground, coated in a disgusting thick layer of blood, making Merrill shudder as she just barely kept herself from throwing up again. "The decision is yours... whether to follow me, or to continue blundering through your pathetic mortal existence, doomed in your search for answers, never to find them..."

The ancient Forbidden One began walking towards where the mists were thinnest, and all of a sudden, Merrill saw them part in Xebenkeck's wake, the young elf breaking off from her paralysis and stumbling forward, trying to see what was ahead of them, finding a powerful, invisible force pushing her back. She could barely make out a massive gate covered with carvings she did not recognize, and did not have time to study, trying to peer deeper inside, beyond the gate. "Do not falter now, Merrill!" Xebenkeck's teasing voice reached her from the mist, the demoness passing through the gate with ease, blood of another granting her passage. "This is what you have dreamed of all your life! How can you deny yourself all this at the last hurdle?"

_But at what cost?_ Merrill thought frantically, the mists parting for a moment, allowing her a tiny glimpse of what lay beyond the gate. For a moment she thought she could see a majestic city of tall, green spires, twisting buildings weaving between ancient trees, platforms levitating up and down moved by potent magic that seemed to permeate, ooze forth from this place of wonder, luring her, calling her to enter, and to remain with its secrets forever, until the end of time.

_I must get inside, I simply must! _Merrill decided spontaneously as the gate shut in front of her, the mists sealing any sign of entrance as Xebenkeck moved away from it. She turned around determinedly, rushing back towards where Morrigan lay, her hands seeking out the sharp dagger of bone that Xebenkeck had left next to the human mage's body, having used her magic to seal the wound on her chest to prevent Morrigan from expiring. _Creators... if I want to enter... I will have to stab... and kill her myself... _Merrill suddenly realized, her resolve faltering minutely.

_Why do I hesitate? This is what I wanted, isn't it? _she mused frantically. _I barely know this woman... by the Creators, she's not even nice or pleasant, in fact, I'm sure she's quite mean! I... I might be doing everyone a favor by ending her life! Yes... yes, that's exactly what I am doing! _

With her resolved straightened, Merrill raised her hand holding the dagger, leaning over Morrigan, ready to strike. _It's not so hard... I've killed before, haven't I? This should come easy to me by now..._ she told herself, still fighting herself to deliver the killing blow, when Morrigan suddenly shifted underneath her, opening her eyes briefly, catching Merrill's stare. "Please..." the witch's lips parted to whisper, making Merrill shudder.

"I'm sorry... but I have to do this..." she mumbled in return, raising the blade again, trying not to stare at Morrigan as she delivered the blow, but then faltering again, looking down at the other apostate. _With the cold harshness stripped from her eyes and venom gone from her voice... her dark hair and soft, alabaster skin reminds me so much of Bethany..._ Merrill suddenly realized, moment before she brought the dagger of bone down... but instead of piercing tender flesh, it scraped against a hard rock and fell from her hands.

* * *

_Circle of Magi, Nevarra City_

"Right... protective glyphs, here we are..." an hour or so after leaving her investigation at the Chantry chapel, Bethany found herself alone in the vast library of the Circle, searching through the tomes of creation magic, the school that both she and Riona had loathed and neglected in her early days of tutoring by her father, only later coming to appreciate its usefulness. "Ah, there we go... hmm, there's the warding glyph... and it doesn't look like the one I saw back at the Chantry. So I had it wrong... they're not protecting themselves against dark magic at all... but what is it then?" she muttered at herself, meticulously leafing through the pages of the thick tome.

Several pages later, she noticed the glyph she had discovered at the Chantry. Her brow furrowed and she let out a small gasp of surprise as she read about the purpose of this particular glyph. "...to hide residual effects of magic and make the casting of spells undetectable?" she shook her head in incomprehension. "By the Maker... just what... is going on here?"


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: Doubtful there will be a chapter on next Monday, with the wonderfully inconvenient Christmas in the way. But I'll try to get the next one out sometime after Christmas. There's two more chapters and an epilogue left, so we're nearing the end. _

_With that said, hope you'll enjoy the resolution to the Nevarra Circle mystery. :) _

**Chapter 16**

_Circle of Magi, Nevarra City_

_Well... so that's what that glyph is also commonly used for, I see..._ Bethany thought to herself, having studied the tomes of Creation magic for another hour or two. _Yes... I'm finally starting to see what is going on, the picture is slowly beginning to come together. There's just one more thing to check before I head back to the Chantry... something that I really should have checked out a long time ago... if I'm correct, it would have given me the biggest clue yet._

With newfound determination, momentarily forgetting that she was all alone in the Circle fortress together with what were by now effectively thralls of Corypheus, Bethany left the library and proceeded to the Circle archivist's office across the hallway. Much to her relief the door was left open. She was well prepared to gain her entry by force, consequences be damned, but she certainly preferred not having to alert some templar by needing to knock down the doors with her magic.

The most important and sensitive documents in the Archives were locked safely away in strongboxes impervious to magic, but Bethany was certain that what she was interested in would not be considered as important to lock away so thoroughly. Indeed, soon after beginning her search, she came upon the register of Circle's active staff in the top drawer of the archivist's desk.

With trembling fingers, she flipped the thick timeworn journal open and began to search for the names that interested her. _Oh... I see..._ she paled with realization, plopping down heavily in the archivist's chair, mentally shouting at herself for not having investigated this link earlier. _I could have saved... no, I guess I didn't know enough before Carsini's death to think of investigating this... so, no, I couldn't have prevented any of the murders by checking this sooner... besides, it doesn't matter now anymore. It's time to put an end to it and then get out of here while I still can..._

The short walk through the park on her way back towards the Chantry was the opposite of the enjoyable stroll of several hours ago, the trees swallowed by the darkness, the breeze of wind rustling the birch leaves and making it sound as if she was surrounded by a hostile, whispering crowd. Nobody had bothered to light the lanterns at the side of the gravel path, and barely any light escaped the grim fortress, making Bethany stumble blindly on her path, struggling not to stray from the meandering gravel road, not daring to summon her mage lights to guide her. Usually she found the dark of the night comforting, but not this time, there was undeniable and indescribable sense of malice permeating the air, and she wished for nothing else but to find herself back indoors, even if she knew by now that the Chantry chapel was anything but a safe place.

The sense of foreboding evil seemed to grow stronger and stronger as she progressed on her way towards the Chantry. Even though Bethany could barely see anything in the darkness, the overcast weather obscuring the bright stars in the sky, she could not escape the feeling of something sinister circling around her, lurking there in the dark, drawing closer to pounce. _Maybe I should have tried to retrieve father's staff before coming here... those templars are by now so addled, they would not have even noticed me taking The Key..._

She snapped out of her thoughts suddenly, hearing a twig snapping very close by. With both her feet on the gravel path, she knew that it was not her making this noise. She froze, staring in the direction of the noise, beginning to slowly make out a darker outline of... something, crouching there, shape of... some kind of a creature? She briefly pondered about sprinting towards the Chantry, but then decided against it, suspecting that whatever this thing was, sitting there and sizing her up, it would likely be able to see better in the dark than she did. Bethany stopped her intense staring in the direction of the sound, trying to act casually as she resumed her walk towards the Chantry, trying to loosen her shoulders, relaxing her arms and flexing her fingers, as she readied herself for spellcasting, knowing that she was about to be attacked.

The creature did not make her wait for too long. She had made perhaps half a dozen steps, when with the corner of her eye she saw something shift in the dark, noiselessly bounding towards her, preparing to leap... when Bethany swiftly turned around and unleashed a cone of white icy death, striking the creature and it rebounded with an angry hiss, it's black shape igniting with fierce flame from the contact, revealing her attacker as a summoned demon, further confirming her suspicions about the secrets of the Nevarran Circle.

She struck the demon with another frost attack, lamenting not having The Key with her, knowing the staff would have amplified her spells to allow her easily dispose of the demon. Now, the rage demon continued to come at her, swiping dangerously at her unprotected frame with its claws, and she was forced to backpedal, hitting the demon with more and more frost attacks, slowing it down and finally forcing it to retreat back into the darkness with an angry hiss. Using the opportunity, Bethany now dared to summon a mage light and quickly reached the Chantry before the demon had recovered and decided to reenact its ambush.

The Chantry doors were locked, and Bethany thought that the time it took for someone to finally answer her frantic knocking was taking entirely too long. _Almost as if someone hoped that some rampaging demon would remove me while I stood there exposed._ "Bethany!" Mother Hannah did not even bother to hide the surprise in her face when she finally opened the door to let the young mage in. "Maker, what are you doing wandering around at this hour? We had already locked the Chantry for the night... I'm sorry I made you wait for so long."

"I... I'm sorry, Mother Hannah..." Bethany apologized tearfully. "I just... got so spooked back in the fortress, I... I didn't know where else to go but here... I hope that I will not be a burden to you or Mother Avris... and speaking of Mother Avris... where is she?"

"I'm afraid that Mother Avris retired not too long ago," Hannah replied politely. "And of course you are not a burden, Bethany. You are welcome to stay for as long as you'd like." The Chantry Mother ushered her further in, leading her to an empty seat in a small chamber by the side of the main hall. "I had made some tea for Mother Avris and myself, would you like some? It will help soothe your nerves," Hannah offered, Bethany nodding quickly.

As Hannah retreated to pick up a fresh pot of tea and a clean mug for Bethany from the small kitchen near the private chambers of the two Mothers, the young mage used the brief moment to look around the chapel, at the first glance finding nothing wrong with the place. Some of the holy relics of the faith that she remembered surrounding the statue of Andraste looked to have been removed for some reason, though.

Hannah returned with the tea soon enough, not bringing in the whole pot, but two already filled mugs, one for herself, one for her guest. The detail did not escape Bethany and she put the mug slightly aside after accepting it. "Thank you," she told the Mother gratefully. "It's still a bit hot, I will drink it a little later." Hannah smiled disarmingly back at her, taking an encouraging sip of her tea. "It's not even nine in the evening, despite being so dark outside," Bethany remarked conversationally a while afterwards. "Does Mother Avris usually retire so early?"

"Yes, I'm afraid she does," Hannah replied. "She gets up very early in the mornings. I suspect she believes that the Maker approves of such schedule," she winked conspiringly at Bethany.

"She seemed awfully upset after returning from meeting with Knight-Commander Leonidas," Bethany remarked. "I... I have not been able to put it out of my mind... I'm so afraid, there's something wrong with the Circle, I know that... if there's anything you can tell me about the suspicions Mother Avris has..."

"I... really shouldn't," Hannah hesitated, then relenting. "But... well, I guess since you are clearly unaffected... Mother Avris suspects that the entire Circle has been possessed by demons. Or some powerful demon. Everyone except you, it would appear."

"Maker... she will call for the Right of Annulment, won't she?" Bethany cried, wringing her hands in desperation, Hannah lowering her head and nodding mutely. "They... they will kill me along with everyone else, even if I have nothing to do with this... it's not fair! It's just not fair!"

"I... I'm sorry, Bethany. If there is a way to speak on your behalf, I will do so," she promised.

"Is... is there no way to dissuade Mother Avris from doing this?" Bethany asked, mustering a few tears to roll down her cheeks.

"I do not think so," Hannah shook her head sadly. "Once Mother Avris is set upon something, she will follow her course. I do not believe she will reconsider."

"Perhaps it is worth trying? My life is at stake here," Bethany pleaded, Hannah looking grim at her requests. "No... I suppose you would know what Mother Avris is like," Bethany eventually conceded. "Even if you don't even know her all that long. I mean, you only arrived to the Nevarran Circle some five months ago, yes?"

Hannah's hand, reaching for the mug, suddenly froze. She fixed Bethany with a strange look in her eyes, a little ruffled at the unexpected remark. "Yes, that is correct," she quickly recovered. "But even after this short time, I feel as if I have known Mother Avris for a lifetime."

"I can't imagine that you would want this all to end with the Right of Annulment," Bethany remarked, carefully watching the emotions on Mother Hannah's face, the other woman still looking a little confused, as if not sure where Bethany was going with this. "I mean, this time they will kill the templars too, because they're just as possessed as the mages."

"The Right of Annulment is never a happy occurrence, Bethany," Hannah replied eventually. "It is a reaffirmation of our failure to watch over and guard young, innocent mages such as yourself. Of course I do not want it to end this way... but Mother Avris is correct, we have no other options."

"Yes, but it must be particularly frustrating for you, Mother Hannah," Bethany smiled thinly. "After everything you went through to rile the mages and templars against each other, now they will both be wiped out and you would have gained nothing."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you are speaking of, child... you must be in great shock indeed..."

"Please, Mother Hannah... though I sincerely doubt that is even your name, in fact, I am absolutely certain it is not," Bethany explained, watching the other woman's eyes narrowing, mouth twisting angrily as she spoke. "I know you are the one responsible for all the murders. I know how and why you did it. But there is nothing I can do with this knowledge, nobody I can bring these accusations to, in fact, I will soon be killed along with the others as they put the Right of Annulment in effect, so you have nothing to fear from me."

Hannah rose from her seat sharply, momentarily turning her back to Bethany, beginning to pace back and forth nervously. "How did you realize?" she finally turned back towards the young mage. "Did this... inconvenient bout of possession removed the other suspects and forced you to concentrate on me and Avris?"

"Only slightly, I was already suspicious of Avris," Bethany remarked, taking a sip of her tea, watching a smile light up in Hannah's face from seeing that. "It was by accident that I discovered the glyphs around the Chantry. I realized that one of you had to be a mage. Then I discovered that you had been transferred from the Circle of Antiva City seven months ago. But somehow, I do not believe that you are the real Mother Hannah that the Nevarran Circle was supposed to receive..."

"Well done, Bethany," 'Hannah' sat down at the table again, smiling broadly. "You are right, I am an apostate with contacts in the Antiva Circle. My Resolutionist friends amongst the Circle learned that Mother Hannah was about to move to Nevarra City, and they provided me with all the necessary information to stage this deception. I murdered the real Mother Hannah on the way to Nevarra and took her place. I used all the tricks I knew to stop the templars from detecting me as a mage, and in a short amount of time I was able to gain their trust. Even Avris... suspicious old cow that she was, did not see through me."

_Resolutionists, I should have known,_ Bethany sighed inwardly. _Destroying the Kirkwall Circle wasn't enough for their ilk._ "You know, I never really considered either of you as the murderers, though," she told 'Hannah'. "The stabbing had to be performed by someone physically more powerful than you or Avris. That's where the realization that you were a mage helped me understand... you could have used the demon you summoned. It attacked me on the way to the Chantry, confirming my suspicions."

"Yes, quite correct," 'Hannah' nodded, taking a sip of the tea herself. "The demon proved quite useful indeed. As did the lock picking skills I learned living on the streets of Antiva City. And the spell creating a sphere of silence, allowing me to commit these murders with no sound escaping. Though, really, the only one who even noticed anything was Carsini, and even then he was dead before he could utter a single scream."

"It would have probably taken another murder or two, and the place would have exploded in violent riots," Bethany mused.

"Yes, Savina would have been next," 'Hannah' said, looking a little irritated as she took another sip of the tea, Bethany following her example. "Damn whoever irresponsible mage unleashed this possession on the Circle and ruined my long hatched plans. It is, as you remarked, most frustrating."

"You know, on many levels I sympathize with you," Bethany spoke. "I also strongly believe that our brethren should be free. But I would like my fight for freedom not to be as bloody as you and the Resolutionists want to make it, the collateral damage would be... astonishing. Unacceptable."

"You're still a naive girl, Bethany," 'Hannah' smirked. "You should know by now that you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. Unless we cast down the templars violently, they will never learn to leave us alone, and we will never know true freedom. But it is good that you are least not a meek Loyalist."

"I must confess, I do not truly belong to any of the fraternities," Bethany smiled, deciding to humor the other apostate with the truth. "You had hidden the true reasons for your presence here, well, so have I... they actually brought me here to help uncover the one behind these murders, with the promise that I would be able to leave after completing this task."

The other woman's eyebrows rose in curiosity. "How interesting... but I'm afraid that you will not be making your report, Bethany."

"You're not just going to kill me here, in the Chantry, will you?" Bethany asked, feigning shock. "I will scream and awaken Mother Avris, she will come to my aid!"

"I fear that the good Mother Avris is sleeping permanently," 'Hannah' grinned, confirming Bethany's suspicions. "I'm afraid she had too much tea to drink... the same tea that you are drinking right now," she added, forcing Bethany to lower her cup with an expression of horror on her face.

"Well... I guess the templars would have put me to the sword with the Right of Annulment, anyway..." Bethany sighed, coaxing more tears from her eyes. "Perhaps poison is the more merciful option..."

"I am glad you are understanding," 'Hannah' agreed magnanimously. "I understand it's not even too painful. Mother Avris did not even thrash much before expiring."

"You are most kind, Mother Hannah," Bethany said, sneaking a quick glance at the apostate sitting opposite to her, watching beads of sweat beginning to break across her bow as 'Hannah' seemed to be squirming a little uncomfortably, beginning to breathe heavily. "Something the matter, good Mother?" she asked innocently.

"I... feel a little... strange..." the murderess confessed, unfastening the collar of her robes, finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. "What... but no, I couldn't have, I was careful..."

"No, no, you did not mix up the mugs," Bethany explained helpfully. "But when I confronted you with the truth, you rose from the table and turned your back towards me for a few seconds. That was all it took me to swap the mugs."

"...you ...you little... bitch!" 'Hannah' screamed, throwing herself at Bethany across the table, but already too weakened, Bethany seized her hands easily, keeping the other apostate away from her, then lowering her down on the floor as her body began to seize with convulsions, foam starting to dribble across her lips, face beginning to turn sickly blue.

"That looks quite unpleasant," Bethany remarked, watching the murderess stare up at her, almost as if looking through her with her hollow eyes, continue to thrash and convulse as the poison quickly worked through her body. "By the way, was I good in my role?" she coquettishly posed at the dying apostate. "Oh, sorry, I guess you can't answer that... but I think I was quite good... yes, indeed," she smiled at herself with smug satisfaction, turning to leave the Chantry, the body of 'Mother Hannah' twitching in death throes on the floor.

* * *

_Next morning, outside Nevarra City walls_

"I'm afraid I still don't understand what is happening," Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast spoke urgently, spurring her horse onwards along the cobblestone road, leading out of Nevarra City. "Why do you want us to go to this Greymouth Cave?" she asked of the young mage sitting on horseback behind her, Bethany's arms wrapped snuggly around her waist.

"Well, you did ask me where everyone in the Circle have disappeared to," Bethany reminded her with a calm voice that only seemed to frustrate Cassandra even further.

"Preposterous... why would both mages and templars go on a pleasant stroll to this cave," she grumbled, even while admitting that she really had no other options than to go along with what Bethany suggested. The girl had been waiting for her outside the Circle fortress since early hours of the morning, eager to speak with her at once. Of course, Cassandra hadn't believed her straight away, wasting several precious hours exploring the fortress together with Bethany, and true to the young mage's word, failing to find anyone, save the two corpses in the Chantry. The others had disappeared in thin air.

"I'm sorry, Cassandra, but I don't think they are mages or templars anymore..." Bethany whispered from behind her. "I believe now they are merely... servants."

"Servants? Servants to whom?" Cassandra demanded.

"You'll see it as soon as we reach the cave... speaking of which, how far is it?" Bethany asked.

"Not far now, less than a mile," the Seeker replied. "I'm... sorry if I appear harsh towards you, Bethany, it's just that... the events here are... difficult to understand and explain."

"Well, at least you believed the truth about Mother Hannah being our murderer."

"The evidence was irrefutable, I could not ignore it," Cassandra admitted a little reluctantly. "The magical items she was carrying to avoid detection of her magic alone were condemning. I will, of course, ask Antiva City Circle to send a thorough description of the real Mother Hannah, so that we can be completely sure, but it appears I can congratulate you with a case successfully solved."

"Thank you, Seeker."

"Now, I think we will be able to see the cave entrance in the valley bellow just as we cross this next hillock," Cassandra said, urging the steed on across one more hurdle, then pulling on the reins to make them come to a halt. She allowed the horse to slowly trot to the side of the cobblestone road, leaning a little out of the saddle to look closely at what was happening down in the valley. "By the Maker... what is going on down there?" she gasped, noticing a procession slowly moving through the depths of the valley, towards the gaping dark maw of the Greymouth Cave.

Bethany jumped off the horse and walked over to the side of the road, peering in the distance as well. "It's just as I thought. He's leading them away... down to the Deep Roads, I imagine. There, he will build up his forces... preparing them for something... but I don't know what. Something is brewing though, I can feel it..."

"Who is leading them away, Bethany?" Cassandra demanded in a hoarse voice. "Start making sense, girl!"

"Do you see that figure there, standing on top of a large rock, a little away from the others?" Bethany replied by pointing to something in the distance.

"...yes, yes I do," Cassandra nodded swiftly, after a bit of squinting. "A man in templar armor, it looks like. But... not of the Nevarran Circle, I think, no... it's familiar, though... by the Maker, it's Kirkwall Circle regalia! Is that..."

"Yes, that is former Knight-Commander Cullen," Bethany spoke quickly, before Cassandra could again demand her to start making sense. "Or, at least he used to be Cullen, before he was possessed... do you remember the story I told you when we met in Val Chevin?"

"Of course, that's the whole reason why I agreed to recruit you," Cassandra replied swiftly. "Learning about the magisters who entered the Golden City isn't something I'm likely to simply forget. But what does it have to do with Cullen?"

"Well... Cullen was in the group that helped me defeat one of these magisters we encountered in the Wimmark Wastes," Bethany explained quietly. "Or... we thought we had defeated it. I had my doubts... and when my friends in Kirkwall wrote to me that Cullen had disappeared, I knew for sure that Corypheus had possessed him."

"Damnation... he should be stopped, but... I don't fancy taking on thirty mages and twice if not more templars under his spell, now..." Cassandra let out a sigh of frustration. "I guess... there's nothing we can do for them right now, is there?"

"Nothing that wouldn't get ourselves horribly killed," Bethany replied with a shrug. "He has his army now... small it may be, but so very dangerous..."

"Indeed. I think I've seen enough, get back on the horse, Bethany," Cassandra ordered harshly. "We must be off with all haste."

"What do you intend to do?" Bethany asked, as Cassandra reached out with her hand, helping her get back on the horse, immediately slipping her hands around the other woman's waist.

"We will return to Nevarra City. I have letters to write, a horse to procure for you, preparations for travel to make," Cassandra quickly explained. "The Divine will need to hear of this, the sooner, the better."

"So, you're taking me with you?" Bethany asked, her breath catching with hope and excitement.

"Of course, I did promise as much," Cassandra replied simply, feeling Bethany's hands hugging her a little tighter after she spoke the words. "And I will speak to the Divine about you and your contribution as well. If everything goes well... and I have no reason to believe that it will not... I will soon be addressing you as Seeker Bethany Hawke..."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

_Vigil's Keep, Arling of Amaranthine_

Riona Hawke stretched in the bed, grumbling sleepily as the irritating sunlight breaking into the bedroom began to tickle her awake. She yawned, almost dislocating her jaw, and turned around in the pillows, pulling the blanket over her head to block out the irritating rays of the sun. She was well aware that midday was approaching fast and Nathaniel had risen several hours ago, but she couldn't bring herself to care, happy to indulge herself with more sweet snoozing.

Unfortunately, others in the Vigil Keep were having different ideas about how she was supposed to spend her time, as she could hear the door opening and Nathaniel peered inside through the gap in the doors. "I hope that the Princess realizes that we're about to have dinner in twenty minutes?" he asked, making Riona search for something to throw at the irritating intruder to make him go away and stop bothering her. "And you're not even dressed... talk about a messed up daily cycle. Are you sure you don't have an owl amongst your ancestors?"

"Go away..." Riona yawned broadly again, picking up the pillow from Nathaniel's side of the bed and throwing it towards the door. The pillow flew only a pitiful distance and plopped on the floor midway to the doors.

"Hmm... this might require some more drastic measures... I don't think I'm going to try a bucket of ice water, though, annoying a powerful mage might not be a good idea," Nathaniel chuckled. "Anyway, I've got something that might force you to get out of the bed..."

"Nothing could make me abandon my happy place..." Riona purred, settling even more comfortably in the blankets.

"Not even this letter from Kirkwall?" Nathaniel asked in a teasing voice, waving a grey envelope in his hand.

Riona was out of the bed in an instant, half way towards the doors and Nathaniel, when she remembered that she had been sleeping in the nude, following their rather intense session of lovemaking last night. Before she could become embarrassed, however, she noticed that Nathaniel had frozen from the sight of her nude form, his eyes a little glazed as he watched her bounding towards him, shamelessly swaying her naked hips and teasingly brushing against him as she reached out and snatched the letter from his fingers. "Thank you," she winked, rising on her toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek, then turning around and slowly strolling back to the bed, feeling her lover's eyes fixed on her backside, Riona sporting a smug grin from knowledge of the effect she was having on Nathaniel.

"I... uh... I guess that means the Grey Wardens have also received the letter I sent to them about the Architect," Nathaniel managed a while later, once Riona had covered herself with the blankets again, allowing him to regain his ability of speech.

"Are you expecting a reply from them?" Riona asked, more curious about Aveline's reply, but unwilling to open and read it in Nathaniel's presence.

"Not really, that's not how they operate," Nathaniel shrugged, but didn't move away. "They'll just deal with it as they see fit, I might never even know if the situation has been resolved."

"Mhm..." Riona nodded distractedly, then giving him a long stare when he still didn't take it as a hint that she wished to remain alone.

"Oh... I see, you want to read the letter alone, my apologies," the stare helped him realize quickly enough.

"Yes, I would prefer that... sorry," Riona said, feeling a little bad for chasing him away, but she knew hearing from Aveline after all this time might make her a little unsettled, and she had no wish for Nathaniel to see her weepy and emotional. "I'll join you for dinner in a bit!" she called after him as her lover closed the doors and walked away.

With Nathaniel gone, Riona wasted little time in tearing open the envelope and withdrawing the parchment, smiling as she recognized Aveline's perfect, calligraphic Orlesian handwriting. Without hesitation, she began to devour the letter, word by word.

_'Dear Riona, _

_You are an idiot. I cannot believe that you would wait all this time before contacting us, when you clearly could have done so much sooner. I will never forgive you that, and if you dare show your face in Kirkwall, I'm going to give you good kicking. Some friend you are!' _

"Love you too, Aveline," Riona whispered, unable to stop herself from breaking into a smile, having expected a similar reaction from her old friend.

_'Now, with that out of the way, I notice that you did not even mention Varric with a single word in your letter. I know all about you two, and if I find out that you haven't sent another letter to him, then you are an even greater idiot than I took you for, and if I see you in Kirkwall, I'm going to punch you so hard, you'll fly all across the Waking Sea and land in your damned precious Vigil's Keep! That stubborn dwarf insists that he's fine and is no longer thinking about you, but somehow I don't think he's telling the whole truth. You know him. He's almost as stupid as you are. Almost, but not quite.' _

The mention of Varric made Riona's chest feel painfully tight, especially because of the possibility that he might still be missing her, she had dearly hoped that he had moved on by now, having forgotten her, immersed in running his little underworld empire... but then again, maybe Aveline was just bad at reading Varric, and saw things that weren't actually there. Somehow that was not much of a consolation.

_'It's very kind of you (though you are still an idiot) to inquire about my wellbeing. No, I have not chased Donnic away yet, and that was not a funny joke at all. And if I had any plans for motherhood I certainly would not share them with a blabbermouth like you. Kirkwall is recovering nicely, now with Bran running things as our viscount, and with the Circle gone, there's nobody significant left to stir trouble. So much for the templars, preservers of the peace!' _

_'As for Bethany, well... I wish I had better news. You know that she is alive, Maker be praised, I thought you were living while thinking that she had perished in the Chantry... I'm glad that was not so. We had quite the adventure with her, when I teamed up with Varric and Ser Cullen to save your sister from an old Grey Warden prison that was holding imprisoned some powerful and ancient evil... I did not understand everything that happened in that old fortress, but it seemed as it somehow recognized Bethany's, and consequently your ancestry. Bethany thought that it was some ancient magister of the Tevinter Imperium-'_

"Oh... damn, so just like this Architect probably is?" Riona exclaimed, blinking rapidly. "This is... way beyond coincidence that these creatures are beginning to show up... something big is stirring..."

_'In the end we defeated it... but I'm not sure it's defeat was final. For some reason your sister fooled us, claiming she would return to Kirkwall, but instead she abandoned us and left for Orlais. She wrote to Varric and myself from Val Chevin, before going silent again... and about a month ago we received the news that she had been captured by templars and taken to the Circle in Nevarra City.' _

Riona swallowed a curse from escaping her mouth, sensing her heart beating with alarming pace, feeling herself suddenly drenched in cold sweat as she forced herself to read onwards. _'That's not all, though. In her letters she had been asking about Cullen as well... Varric and I believe that she suspected that something happened to Ser Cullen in that Grey Warden prison, while we confronted the ancient Magister. It is true that Cullen behaved oddly, erratically after we returned to Kirkwall, until he one day simply disappeared. Varric's spy network reported that he had left from Cumberland, with Nevarra City as his destination. Varric believed that Bethany might be in danger and departed for Nevarra City, and I have not heard from him or Bethany since.' _

"Damnation, this is not good... this is not good at all..." Riona muttered to herself, deeply distraught. _'Riona, if you ask me, you need to take the following steps. 1) Stop being such an idiot. 2) Get in touch with Varric as soon as possible. 3) Rush to Nevarra City and help your sister! (Follow this advice, and I promise not to hit you. Much.)_

_With Love and Affection, _

_Your Friend Despite Everything, Aveline' _

It took all of Riona's willpower to stop trembling from fear and anxiety, the young mage jumping out of the bed and beginning to dress quickly, any thoughts of sleep now thoroughly wiped from her mind. _Damn it, I must go to Nevarra at once... I will have to ask Nathaniel to secure a passage for me on a ship from Amaranthine... Maker knows I can't ask him to just abandon his life here and come join me on this chase. Well... I suppose I can and will ask him... but I will understand if he chooses not to accompany me... much as I hope he would agree to join. Even if it might lead to an awkward meeting between him and Varric... oh Maker, what a mess. _

_And... dare I even save Bethany, after what that blasted old crone told me? What if I doom us both with this ill-conceived rescue? But no... I can't sit by idly, Flemeth's warnings be damned... or maybe this emergence of the ancient magisters is what she warned me about, and now it's actually time for me to seek Bethany out? It doesn't matter! I must save my sister, and Flemeth will not stand in my way in this, no matter how mighty she is, I will do what I can to rescue my sister... or I will die trying..._

* * *

_The Royal Palace of Denerim_

The Queen of Ferelden stood at the arched window in one of the numerous studies in the western wing, looking outside at the gradually darkening sky, watching the lanterns being lit throughout the capital with the arrival of the evening. The waiting was making Maythre a little nervous, as well as annoyed when she realized she had been wringing her hands, angry at herself for losing her cool. _Damn that Flemeth, I hoped she would be wrong about this, but... no, I should have known that her words cannot be dismissed. But I will do as she asks... for now, until I find a way to protect myself from her... there must be a way... _

She tore herself away from the window and turned to look at Cauthrien, her trusted general standing by the doors dressed in full armor, as always looking calm and emotionless. "They should be arriving soon," Maythre spoke. "Are you absolutely certain they did not appear suspicious when you asked them to maintain utmost secrecy about this meeting?"

"I am certain, my Queen," Cauthrien said, shadow of a smirk on her lips. "After all, our guests are also interested in keeping their presence a secret. They understand that the arrival of three Grey Wardens and rumors of them meeting with the Queen, could create a tremendous stir and perhaps even endanger their mission... whatever that might be."

Maythre nodded slowly at that, knowing that Cauthrien was right. _That's why I appreciate her so much, I can nearly always rely on her being rational and logical... and now she remains the only one I can trust,_ the elven blood mage thought at herself. _It's a shame that she will outlive her usefulness in a decade or so, while due to Avernus research my aging will be considerably slower... where will I find someone else so blindly loyal, their spirit so utterly broken and bound to me? I don't think I will... perhaps I could do something to reward Cauthrien for her almost faultless service? Yes... there might be a way... _

"You speak true, as always, my general," the Queen said, allowing herself a softer smile. "I trust you will be ready for anything, Cauthrien. I cannot predict how this meeting will unfold..."

"I am always ready for anything," Cauthrien flashed back a predatory grin, patting the hilt of the Summer Sword. _It almost looks like she's hoping for violence,_ the Queen realized. _She's never liked the Grey Wardens... I wonder if it's still Loghain's hatred that she exhibits, or does she have her own reasons... not that it matters. The only thing that does matter is that she is ready to kill on my orders. Ready to kill anyone and anything at the merest nod of my head... as it should be. _

Shortly after, she could hear heavy footsteps outside in the corridor, the palace guards bringing the visitors through the servant entrance and escorting them to the study for the appointed meeting. After a hesitant knock on the doors, Cauthrien made a barely perceptible movement to open them and allow the party of Grey Wardens inside, the guards remaining on the other side of the doors. Maythre continued to stand still at the window, hands crossed on her chest as she watched the two humans and a dwarf enter to face her.

"Our mission is of highly critical importance, Maythre," one of the humans, the elder male with thick bushy moustache, spoke. The queen knew that his name was Stroud and that he had served the Wardens for almost fifteen years, but nothing beyond that. "Was it truly necessary to make us wait for several days before agreeing to see us?" he spoke, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

Cauthrien glowered at Stroud, looking thunderous. "How dare you address the Queen in such a manner, cur," she snarled. "On your knees, apologize!"

Obviously, Stroud showed no intention of obeying this order. "Oh yes, the Queen," he added, slightly mockingly. "We should probably discuss that as well, now that we have been graciously granted an audience. I guess it somehow must have slipped Duncan's mind to make it clear to you that Grey Wardens do not involve themselves in politics. They certainly do not usurp power the way you have done here. Weisshaupt Fortress is still expecting your explanation for the actions you have taken, Warden Maythre."

Cauthrien's hand was already on the sword hilt, when she caught the brief look in Maythre's eyes that simply told her to calm down and remain impassive until further orders. "Ah... Stroud, was it?" she asked, giving the confrontational Warden her best imperious stare. His two companions, a younger human female, bow strapped on her back and a young dwarven lad with the casteless tattoos on his face and twin daggers at his belt, appeared slightly more intimidated by the infamous and much feared Queen of Ferelden. "Surely you do not wish to bore me with such talk? It can't be pertinent to this critically important mission that you mentioned."

"It is of even greater importance to remind Wardens who have strayed from their path about their duty and obligation," Stroud snapped.

_The sheer impertinence of the man!_ Maythre raged inwardly. _That he would storm my palace and seek to insult me like this, treating me like some kind of... junior Warden? I should kill him for that alone!_ Of course, she had been expecting something like this at some stage. The letters from Weisshaupt had been coming with irritating regularity, almost every month, demanding that she steps down from her position as the ruler of Ferelden and returns to the Anderfels for further orders and new assignments. _And yet, even if they condemn what I have done, they do not dare to operate in Ferelden without asking my permission first... yes, they recognize my power and they fear it,_ she realized with satisfied smugness.

"I understand that you wished to ensure my cooperation in a certain matter?" she asked casually, managing a disarming smile. "Do you not think that I would be easier to persuade into helping if you had shown a little more respect? You could start by addressing me by my proper title, Warden Stroud."

"I already did that, Warden Maythre," Stroud gave her a challenging stare, making her seethe deep down in anger and fury. "And it is your duty to aid your Grey Warden brethren in any way you can! Or have you conveniently forgotten that lesson as well?"

"Very well, I will hear you out," Maythre nodded, deciding to let him elaborate on the details of their mission, before the conversation progressed to open hostilities. "What is it that you wish my aid with?"

"We **demand** your aid in dealing with an old foe that apparently has once again emerged in the Arling of Amaranthine," the leader of the Grey Warden group explained. "We thought that we had dealt with this peculiar darkspawn emissary, also known as the Architect, several years ago. Now, according to the reports, it looks as if he has reappeared and is gathering followers to his cause... we almost lost Amaranthine to the darkspawn once already. I am sure that nobody wants to see that happen again... now, as the supposed Queen of this land, you should care to protect your subjects from darkspawn threat, yes? Or must I remind you once again that it is your duty to aid your brethren?"

_The Architect, I remember the stories, yes... Anders was involved in thwarting him many years ago... but I wonder what is Flemeth's interest here? Then again, she is interested in everything that happens in Thedas, it seems. And on this, I actually agree with her... I cannot allow Stroud to leave, not after he has shown open disrespect to me, threatened me in my own castle. _The grin slowly spread on Maythre's lips as she came to a decision. "Yes, it is a duty of a Grey Warden to aid their kin, I remember as much," she said pleasantly, noticing Stroud and the others immediately becoming suspicious to the change in her voice. "But you see, there is a problem... I no longer count myself amongst your accursed brethren, Stroud."

The Wardens exchanged confused and mildly shocked looks between them. "What... how is this possible, Your Majesty?" the human female asked, Maythre nodding in approval at her proper form of address. "Did Fiona share her secret with a fellow mage, perhaps? She told you how to overcome our tainted blood? Perhaps because you are both elves?"

Maythre could not help letting a lilting laugh escape her lips. "I sincerely doubt whether the Grand Enchanter had the same means available to her as I did. The only similarity between us is that we have both thrust ourselves back into worldly affairs once riddling us from this affliction of the taint. And how we did it hardly matters... the only thing you need to know is that we did it." The Queen idly ran her hand across the alabaster white skin of her neck, exposed by the low cut white gown. "This will never become tainted by corruption, black from rotting, oozing with pus... truly, I pity you and the rest of your ilk, Stroud. That you accept this fate without searching for other means to defeat the darkspawn and their dark gods... shows your shortsightedness."

"Weisshaupt will be just thrilled to hear of these developments," Stroud growled dangerously. "But I suppose I must stay true to my words, Grey Wardens do not involve themselves in politics... so we will not interfere with whatever game you are playing here. Though, I must still ask you for your aid against the Architect. It is in your best interests to help-"

"Do **not** presume to lecture me on what my interests are!" Maythre cut him off, raising the volume of her voice and looking furious. "You will not receive any aid from me, Stroud! Nor will you be reporting back to Weisshaupt Fortress!"

"To arms! We are betray-" Stroud's action of drawing his sword was cut off midway, Maythre hitting the leader of the Grey Warden group with a debilitating blood magic spell that held him paralyzed, blood beginning to ooze from every pore in his skin.

The dwarven rogue went for his daggers, trying to dodge out of the way, but he had clearly misjudged the tremendous reach Cauthrien had with her Summer Sword. The blade nicked him across the legs, accompanied by a spurt of blood, the dwarf toppling on the ground with a pained cry, legs almost severed below the knees. Cauthrien was upon him swiftly, running her sword through his back and causing a fatal injury.

As Maythre continued to hold Stroud paralyzed, smiling thinly as she watched him slowly bleeding to death before her eyes, the last member of the Grey Warden group, the young human archer, appeared to be stuck in indecision whether to actually attempt to challenge the Queen and her general, or whether to drop on her knees and beg for life, eventually settling for the latter.

Maythre still kept her focus on torturing Stroud with her blood magic spells, and spared all but one look at the girl as Cauthrien approached her. "She addressed me properly, at least. For that, Cauthrien, end her quickly and painlessly, unlike I do with this bastard," she said, watching the girl's eyes go wide, but her struggles were all in vain as Cauthrien grabbed her by her hair, pulling the young Warden to her feet and then quickly slitting her throat with a sharp dagger and holding the girl until she expired, then allowing her limp body to topple to the ground.

Once Stroud had been sufficiently bled and weakened, Maythre eased the hold her spells had on him, letting him collapse in a messy heap, groaning from pain. "You... you will pay for this... my brothers will... avenge me..." he whispered with the last of his strength. "They will come..."

"Yes, they will," Maythre nodded, standing next to the soon-to-be-corpse. "A fine trap you have led them to, Stroud. They will come to retrace your steps, and their path will eventually lead them here, to the palace... where I will kill them all, one by one..."

"No! No, you... you-" Stroud managed, desperately trying to back away from her, his strength failing him, the Grey Warden collapsing helpless at the Queen's feet.

"You know I will, Stroud," Maythre smiled cruelly, placing the heel of her boot directly above the man's throat. "Now die, knowing that you have failed your precious Wardens." The boot came down hard, the heel crushing Stroud's throat painfully and after a few wild jerks his body finally relaxed and became limp.

"There's no need for you to remain here any longer, my Queen, I will take care of the bodies," Cauthrien informed her, looking at the corpses with disdain, her dislike for the Wardens plain to see.

"Thank you, my ever thoughtful Cauthrien. What would I ever do without you?" the Queen smiled, all cruelty immediately washed away from her face as she looked upon the other woman. _What would I do without her, indeed? Where will I ever find someone so loyal, then spend so much time and effort bending and breaking them so beautifully? If only there was a way to make sure she remains with me longer... no, wait... there is a way, isn't there? The same means I used myself... there is not much left of what I brought back from the Soldier's Peak, but I'm beginning to feel that Cauthrien deserves this reward for her exemplary service._

"I have another request to ask of you, Cauthrien," she added then, having made the decision. "There is a matter that we should discuss, but... in more relaxed surroundings. I want you to come to my private quarters in... let's say, four hours. Oh, and since I wish to make it more... informal, I want you to be wearing a dress instead of armor."

Cauthrien looked completely stunned at that, opening her mouth to speak several times but failing miserably, until she finally gathered herself. "But... I do not own any dresses..." she managed weakly.

"Do not bore me with trivial details, Cauthrien. Shilla will see to it and anything else you require to look pleasing to the eye. Do this because I ask it of you and because it will please me," the Queen demanded with an imperious smile, watching a slightly paler Cauthrien nod swiftly. _She almost looks more frightened than when facing an army of darkspawn!_ Maythre remarked, chuckling inwardly. "I will see you soon, then. Do not be late, Cauthrien... it would be most unwise to ignore my wishes..."


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: Adult themes. Possibly a bit disturbing. Evil people doing strange and perverted things! _

**Chapter 18**

_The Royal Palace of Denerim_

Cauthrien always thought of herself as of someone very collected and unflappable. However, Queen Maythre's invitation, or more like request to join her for an informal meeting in her private quarters, as well as the elven mage's insistence on her making herself pretty and presentable had left her completely confused and uncertain of what the queen's intentions might be.

While she had been taking a long bath, trying to calm down her usually steady nerves, the elven maid Shilla was busy selecting a dress for her. It appeared as if Shilla was having some difficulties in finding something that would fit Cauthrien's broader, slightly unladylike shoulders, eventually settling for a simple yet elegant dress of bright red, Cauthrien nodding her reluctant approval as soon as she noticed it did not have any ridiculous ruffles, flounces or furbelows. It still displayed her cleavage slightly more prominently than she was comfortable with, but Shilla assured her that she had the skin and the figure to pull it off. Cauthrien had her fair share of scars, but most of them were concentrated on her legs and some along the lower back, all in all being lucky and skilled to avoid more serious injuries.

Once Shilla had helped her into the dress, then came the time to fix her hair, Cauthrien feeling grateful that the elf didn't have enough time at her disposal to fit her with some ridiculous curls. Shilla simply pulled her hair back in a simple braid while leaving a few stray locks to fall on her brow in an errant manner, Cauthrien quietly admitting that she rather approved of the style. The elven maid looked as if she was barely holding back the giggles, having to hand-walk her through applying makeup, Cauthrien openly admitting that she was completely useless at this. Still, the end result all in all pleased her, Shilla was sparing with the makeup, just enough to bring out the contrast between her pale skin and dark hair, the ruby red lipstick matching the color of her dress.

"Well, I am certainly glad that's done with," Cauthrien nodded her gratitude to Shilla, stepping away from the mirror and then walking towards the door, when the elf's sudden bout of laughter caused her to stop and glare at the maid. "Now what's the matter? I would advise you not to make fun out of me, if you know what's good for you, girl!"

"Oh... sorry, Ser Cauthrien..." Shilla tried her best not to giggle. "But... you just don't walk like that when wearing a dress. You're walking as if you're still wearing armor... taking these quick, long and determined steps while wearing a dress... I'm sorry, it's just too funny..." Cauthrien intensified her glare, causing the elf to drop all her amusement. "Well... you want to walk a bit like this..." Shilla quickly demonstrated, slowly pacing around the room with a tantalizing sway of her hips.

Cauthrien attempted to repeat Shilla's movements, and immediately nearly sent herself crashing to the floor. "Honestly, I hate this... if not for the Queen demanding that I do this, I would never..." she swore angrily.

"Hmm, I don't think we have the time needed to fix this..." Shilla shook her head, tapping a finger against her chin. "Well... you could try walking at a slower pace and take smaller steps. Do you think you could manage that?" Cauthrien glared at her but did as she was told, taking a few steps back and forth the room, reminding herself to walk more slowly. "Yes, that is... almost good," the elven maid nodded.

"Not a word of this to the other servants, do you hear?" Cauthrien warned the elf just before leaving. "And if the Queen will be displeased with my appearance, that will be on your head too." The elf simply smiled at her, seemingly unperturbed at the threats in her direction. Muttering something about Shilla's impertinence, the general left her room and departed to the other wing of the palace where the queen's personal quarters were located.

Still not sure just what the Queen's intentions were, Cauthrien stood outside the door to the queen's apartments, finally mustering enough courage to announce her arrival with a nervous knock on the door. She reached for the handle and pressed on it, as soon as she heard Maythre calling for her to enter. The Queen was busy browsing through a wall cabinet, eventually putting something that looked like a flask back on the shelf and closing the cabinet doors. "Ah, you are finally here, good," Maythre spoke, turning around, smiling as she regarded her. "Oh... I must say, Shilla has done wonders, you look very comely, Cauthrien. I am pleased, very pleased indeed."

"Thank you, my Queen. I am not exactly accustomed to wearing these clothes," Cauthrien replied, feeling a little self-conscious from the way Maythre's eyes seemed to linger on her for some reason. For her part, the elven queen was wearing one of her more impressive snow white gowns, one that left her shoulders, neck and the tops of her breasts bare, white gloves covering her small, delicate hands. All in all, her appearance was magnificently perfect, as far as Cauthrien was convinced she had not seen any woman in Thedas that could match the Queen's beauty or even come close.

"I am aware of that, Cauthrien," Maythre continued to smile, taking a few steps towards her while the general herself remained cautiously standing by the doors. "I do take notice of what you are wearing and I know you are not usually heading into battle while wearing a dress such as this."

"The protection it offers is... somewhat inadequate," Cauthrien nodded, relaxing a little. It seemed as if the queen simply wanted an opportunity to speak with her in private. "I prefer a more practical approach, which also allows me to survive and continue to serve Your Majesty."

"Yes... yes, it is good of you to mention that, my dear Cauthrien, for that is one of the reasons why I have summoned you here," Maythre said, more businesslike now as if reminded of why she had called this meeting. "We have had a very enjoyable and productive partnership so far, have we not? I would like to believe that we are still merely at the beginning of all that we could achieve together... and while we have had our disagreements, some even very recent... I think we came out from all of that stronger... closer. Would you agree with that, Cauthrien?"

"I would lay down my life for you without a moment of doubt, my Queen," Cauthrien replied earnestly, a little breathless from her passionate declaration. "I made a mistake in questioning your wisdom, and you made me realize my folly... I would never make the same mistake again." She lowered her head, feeling shame and embarrassment remembering their violent disagreement in the Circle Tower. "You showed undeserved mercy in forgiving my poor judgment... my loyalty to you is utter and complete."

"I know, Cauthrien. I know," Maythre smiled, looking very pleased. "You have served me well, and I know you will continue to do so in the future. I have decided that such exemplary service must be rewarded."

"My Queen, you don't need to-"

"Hush, my general," Maythre interrupted her quickly. "You will accept whatever gifts I choose to bestow on you, or would you wish to anger me by refusing?" Cauthrien shook her head quickly, the dark locks dancing on her brow. Maythre smiled again. "Good, I thought so. I have been thinking lately... due to the solution that the research of Avernus has provided me with, my lifespan will be greatly extended, while those around me would wither and die while I would still be in my prime... leaving me alone and in need of finding new loyal allies... including the need to train a new general for my armies." Maythre paused for a moment, looking at Cauthrien, the general managing to keep her face impassive, silently wishing for the queen to elaborate. "I have no wish to do this, when I already have someone as loyal and capable as you, Cauthrien... there is not much left of the concoction I created in Soldier's Peak, but I would be willing to share it with you, my general."

Cauthrien stumbled a little from the queen's words. She had expected many things, but not this. Her head started to spin a little when she began to comprehend just what the queen was offering to her. "I... don't know what to say. Would it... even work for me?" she asked hesitantly. "I thought it was something that helped to cure your tainted blood, but I have never gone through the Grey Warden Joining ritual..."

"It will work, Cauthrien. If I was not certain of it, I would never offer it to you. I would never risk an important asset like you," Maythre answered, the soothing tones of her voice working wonders in reassuring Cauthrien.

"How... how many years would it buy me?" Cauthrien pressed on.

"That I cannot answer, I'm afraid. But Avernus himself was a human and lived for centuries thanks to his research, aging considerably slower," Maythre explained. "And I have significantly refined his formulae. I do not think that I can offer you immortality, Cauthrien... but it is the next best thing."

"I... yes, of course, I trust you, my Queen... I will accept this gift," Cauthrien bowed deeply. "I am... astonished that you would share something so... valuable with me. Words cannot express how honored I am by your offer."

"Well..." the Queen interrupted her flow of words. "There is a price to pay for it, Cauthrien. But..." she let her eyes roam across the general's body again. "I think you will be willing to consider it."

"Anything you wish for, my Queen, anything that is in my power to give you..."

Maythre let out a delightfully melodic laughter. "Yes, it is well within your power... you see, Cauthrien, even if I am deeply committed to reaching my goals, committed to the big picture, it is important that smaller and less significant needs are not left unattended... and they have been ignored after Zevran's death. I asked you to come here, wearing this dress, because I wanted to see if I would find you pleasing to the eye, Cauthrien. And I do find you very comely. Cauthrien, you are the only one I have left who I would dare to allow closer."

Cauthrien felt herself becoming completely frozen from shock. _Is this... is this real? What is she saying? Is she seriously offering what I think... no, she can't be! She is the Queen and I am just the... the only person she can trust... _"I... I... are you..." she tried to speak, but her vocal chords decided against cooperating.

"I want you to lay with me, Cauthrien," Maythre said simply. "And I believe I am correct in thinking that you would not consider that a punishment... quite the opposite."

Cauthrien almost seized up with sudden panic and embarrassment from Maythre's words. On some level she had always found the queen almost painfully beautiful, feeling a strong attraction towards the elven blood mage, but she had never even dared to allow her to consider these feelings, keeping them buried deep inside, knowing that letting them free reign would only lead to heartache and disaster. The Queen would never even find her interesting in that regard, she had Zevran, and even after his death, surely she was above petty mortal needs and pleasures of the flesh... or was she?

And suddenly, out of the blue... she stunned Cauthrien with this kind of offer to share her bed... this was not about love, or relationship, or anything like that, she simply needed a good looking lover who could please her... and while it flattered her enormously that Maythre would even consider her for the role, suddenly she became very self-conscious again about whether she could... perform adequately in this capacity. She hadn't been with anyone for almost ten years, the queen would be disappointed and angered by her clumsiness, Maythre did not deserve someone so inept like her, she was entitled to only the best, and yet...

And yet, suddenly Maythre was next to her, her glowed hands taking hers, looking up at her, eyes dancing in rare merriment. "Am I really that frightening, Cauthrien? Normally I would be flattered, but now I would rather prefer if you were able to speak with me," she chuckled.

"I... my queen, you are right... I cannot deny that a part of me... desires this, desires you, but..." Cauthrien struggled with her words. "But I fear that my... lack of experience... or skill... would displease and anger you."

"But it is promising that you were considerate enough to think of that," Maythre smiled. "It is true, I do not expect you to possess Zevran's prowess... and you are certainly forbidden to try and acquire the required skill by bedding some disease ridden filth. I would rather hand-walk you through everything myself, tiring as it might be... I am still willing to put in the effort and help you... but you must prove yourself to be a very quick and eager student."

Cauthrien felt a surge of heat flushing to her cheeks. "I... will do all I can to please my Queen," she stammered, feeling Maythre's glowed fingers tracing the outline of her cheek, brushing across her lower lip, before slipping behind her neck and pulling her a little downwards.

"I know you will, Cauthrien. Now... kiss me," Maythre whispered, pulling Cauthrien towards her, the taller human lowering her head to meet the queen's lips. The first touch was very light, so as not to make her uncomfortable, but then she felt Maythre's kisses becoming more insistent and forceful, and she responded as best as she could, guided purely by instinct, her usually calm and rational mind having long abandoned her.

"Yes... I can see that we have a lot of work ahead us..." the Queen chuckled, eventually releasing Cauthrien, the general feeling both ashamed and mortified at hearing those words. "But I cannot deny your eagerness to please... I think it will serve you well, my general. And now, follow me," Maythre said, grinning as she took Cauthrien by the hand and pulled her along in a purposeful step towards the royal bedroom. "It is time I introduce you to your new duties..."

* * *

Once it was over, Cauthrien found herself lying stark naked on the queen's bed, conflicting emotions tearing at the core of her being. A part of her was elated that she was granted the opportunity of being able to bring pleasure to her Queen in such a deeply intimate way, she could have never imagined finding herself in this situation. But the memory of how the Queen had to guide her through every step, directing the movements of her fingers, showing the places she desired to be touched, it made her feel so inadequate and undeserving, filling herself with self-loathing.

And through it all, as she had somehow fumblingly managed to help her beloved Queen reach the crescendo of her pleasure, she felt a flaming spike of need burning in her core, demanding attention and release, something that Maythre was not even considering to reward her with and now she could only lay there, trying to ignore the pulsating heat between her legs, wishing that the Queen would just simply send her away so that she could run back to her quarters and attend to her own needs.

The queen was obviously sensing her discomfort from the way Cauthrien was squirming, but she merely gave the general an amused stare, getting out of the bed, gloriously and enchantingly nude, still shining with the afterglow. "As you become more proficient at attending to my needs, Cauthrien, I will see about rewarding you in return. This will serve you as sufficient motivation to improve your performance. It was adequate for the first time... you did not displease," the elven queen said nonchalantly. Cauthrien noticed that she had undressed completely save for her gloves, the memory of those glowed fingers digging into her shoulders was so arousing that another surge of heat seized her hips, making her squirm uneasily again, but by then the Queen had already left the room, beginning to rummage in the wall cabinet and explaining in a very businesslike voice that Cauthrien was expected to attend to her new duties at least twice per week, the general barely registering her words, her unfulfilled desires making her temples throb.

Maythre returned shortly afterwards, now carrying a wineglass, half-full with thick red liquid that seemed to be glowing lightly in the muted lights of the bedroom. "And now for your reward, my lovely Cauthrien," the queen said, sitting next to her in the bed, the skin of her back brushing delightfully against the human's legs as she held out the glass to Cauthrien in her glowed hand.

Cauthrien rose from the pillows, before accepting the glass, realizing the value of the liquid inside, unwilling to spill it and earn the Queen's eternal enmity. "Does it contain lyrium?" she asked, wondering about the glow. The queen nodded in reaffirmation, urging Cauthrien to drink the precious elixir presented to her, and she hesitated no longer, raising the glass and swallowing its contents in one go. _Ah well... if she wants to kill me with this, at least I will now die happy..._

The liquid was disgustingly thick and tasted terribly, slowly sliding down her throat like sticky glue... and then, suddenly she was gripped by a searing pain, as if her body was suddenly dipped in molten lava, combusting from the inside, making her pass out from the intense ache. When she regained her consciousness, Maythre's gloved hands were gently shaking her by the shoulders. "One small moment of unpleasantness... that is all the price you had to pay for a greatly extended lifespan... all thanks to me," she smiled down, helping Cauthrien pull herself up from the bed.

"I can only hope to prove worthy of the kindness and generosity you have bestowed upon me, my Queen," Cauthrien whispered, still wondering about the effects of the elixir. She felt fine... or, perhaps considering that she was in Maythre's bed, with the queen herself sitting gloriously nude next to her... she felt more than fine... but she also understood that she should definitely not overstay her welcome. "Would you like me to leave now, my Queen?" she asked, lowering her eyes.

"Yes, I think this will be enough for tonight, Cauthrien," Maythre nodded her head, rising again and slowly walking over to her desk, starting to rummage through the drawers as Cauthrien got out of the bed and picked up her discarded dress, reluctantly beginning to wrestle with the confusing garment.

"You will be leaving early next morning," the Queen said suddenly, surprising her.

"Leaving? Where to?" she asked quickly, freezing, almost starting to fear that despite her words stating otherwise, she had displeased the queen and was now being sent away.

"Hawke has been moving around way too much for my liking," Maythre replied. Cauthrien immediately relaxed, noticing that the queen had retrieved the red glowing phylactery from one of the drawers and was busy inspecting it. "I do not want to see the one who will command our battle-mages against the Orlesians escaping from our grasp. I'm hearing that she is still in Vigil's Keep... you will take the phylactery and head there to retrieve her, with force if necessary. Kill anyone in your way, but return Hawke to Denerim unharmed."

"I understand, Your Majesty," Cauthrien bowed her head, having finally managed to slip into her dress properly, covering herself. Slowly she walked up to the desk where Maythre stood, still naked, taking the phylactery from her queen.

"Just one more thing before you leave, Cauthrien," the Queen smiled at her, almost appearing gentle. "Put your arms around me," she said softly, the human immediately doing as she was told, feeling the subdued fire within her reigniting as Maythre's hands wrapped around her in turn, the naked queen slipping into her embrace. "Now kiss me, as I showed you," came the next order, and Cauthrien bent to fulfill it with burning eagerness, her passions surging as she felt the elven queen's exploring lips and tongue dancing with hers.

_I don't care what she thinks of me, whether she cares about me at all, it's not even important to me that she does not think of this as lovemaking..._ Cauthrien thought, lost in her pleasure. _It is to me, and that is what matters. I don't simply love her... I worship her and the ground she walks upon. Maker be damned and cast down... Queen Maythre... she is my Goddess..._


	19. Chapter 19

**Epilogue**

_Nevarra City_

Varric Tethras disliked Nevarra City from the first moment he laid his eyes upon the vast, sprawling city. It was too quiet, peaceful... too scholarly for his liking, he much preferred pits of depravity where everything constantly reminded him to keep his guard up and expect treachery from any corner. Nevarra City was dangerous, it could lull one into complacency... and Varric Tethras knew exactly what might happen if he let his guard down for even a brief moment.

And cities like this one had the irritating tendency to spring surprises upon him completely out of the blue. He did not know what he would find upon his arrival, nor did he have any specific plan on getting Bethany out of the Circle, or for stopping Cullen... he had intended to observe the situation and go from there. But he certainly did not expect to find the Nevarra City Circle swarming with dozens of armed guards, crowded with all kinds of official figures, panicking about the inhabitants of the massive ancient fortress seemingly abandoning it a few days ago, only to disappear without a trace.

Indeed, there were no signs of struggle inside the fortress, much to Varric's relief. The mages and the templars had simply... left, peculiar as it was. And Bethany had most likely gone with them, leaving him with another wild chase on his hands, this time without even being able to guess the direction he was supposed to search for the girl. But Varric knew better than to simply pick a direction and rush there blindly... no, some research needed to be done, and he prided himself in his own inquisitive mind, perfect for such investigation and seeking out threads to follow.

Someone in a city this large had to have seen Bethany, or the mages and templars leaving the Circle fortress, Varric was sure of it. Slowly and methodically he began to make his inquiries, starting with the households that were the closest to the Circle, whose dwellers would have had perfect opportunities to observe someone arriving to the fortress or leaving it. After a few hours of fruitless questioning, he finally came across an old crone who insisted that she had indeed seen the girl matching his description, but refused to tell him anything else until he had helped rescue her cat stuck in a tall willow tree outside her house.

Dwarves were not particularly renown for their skill in climbing trees and Varric soon discovered the reason for it. Approximately an hour later he returned to the old woman, carrying the struggling demon-spawn feline, bloodied and battered both from the tree branches and the cat's claws, wishing he wasn't so nice and had simply retrieved the blasted creature by putting Bianca's bolt through its fluffy ass.

Fortunately, the suffering proved well worth it. The old biddy told him of having seen Bethany arriving more than two weeks ago, brought in by someone the old woman recognized only too well, Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, her family very influential in these parts. She could not tell Varric whether Bethany had left with Seeker Cassandra, but at least she could point him towards the Pentaghast Estate, where Varric could investigate this lead further.

The approach of simply requesting an audience with the owner of the estate proved to be unfruitful, as Varric ended up being chased away by a guard with four large and angry mabari dogs. He spent the next three days watching the people going to and coming out of the estate, trying to identify someone among the staff that he could persuade into gossiping about the lords of the estate. He found his victim in a young kitchen servant, the girl all too eager to take him up on his offer for dinner, after he had softened her up with a little bit of flattery.

The girl apparently had something akin to fetish for dwarves, as she not only told Varric everything he wanted to know and more, she also became _very_ friendly over the course of the dinner. She was comely enough, so Varric did not particularly mind her attentions, simply ordering more and more wine for her, until the drink did its job and the girl passed out with a content, drunken grin plastered on her face. Under other circumstances, Varric knew he might have considered bringing the girl upstairs to his room and teaching her a few things that she probably did not know about dwarves, but his focus was entirely elsewhere this evening, largely because of the information revealed to him by his now passed out companion.

Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast had returned home to the estate exactly one week ago, bringing Bethany with her. They had procured horses and readied themselves for lengthy travel, leaving with the first rays of sunlight on the following day. And Bethany had apparently followed this Seeker Cassandra freely, by choice, if he could believe his source then the younger Hawke was not the Chantry agent's prisoner. Finally, he had learned of their destination, groaning inwardly as he received the news. The capital of Orlais, Val Royeaux.

_Orlais... I hate Orlais. I must be mad to even consider following them. Why am I doing this, again?_ He asked himself, rubbing his chin tiredly. _Because I promised to look out for them both. Because they are both foolishly reckless and always getting tangled into something way over their pretty heads. _He sighed deeply, shaking his head and quietly cursing at himself. _And... I guess because during those seven years, they both became almost like family... and because I care about my Hawke Sisters..._

* * *

_The Abyssal Reach, Orlais _

"I feel completely lost... which I guess Hawke would say is perfectly normal for me... but this time I feel more lost than any of the other times," the raven haired elven mage rambled, standing next to her companion, a very attractive but cold and abrasive looking human apostate, sitting on a rock at the mouth of a dark cave from which they had just emerged. "Morrigan, do you have any idea where we have ended up?" she turned to her new friend.

Morrigan looked up at the elf, herself feeling tired and irritated, still weakened by the near fatal injury Xebenkeck inflicted upon her. "I'm more interested in just have you managed to lead us out of that place beyond the eluvian..." she gave a curious stare to Merrill.

"Oh... I'm sorry, but I don't really know," the elf shrugged her shoulders apologetically. "I think that once I made my decision not to stab you and use your blood to enter that wondrous city... somehow, some entity in there... guided us out of there, as if it felt that it had no use for us anymore... as if it did not want us there any longer."

"Curious," Morrigan remarked, appearing uncertain whether to believe Merrill's explanation. "I suppose I should thank you for not killing me, then."

"I'm sure you would have done the same in my position!" Merrill exclaimed cheerfully.

Morrigan's expression remained unreadable. "You probably do not want to know the answer to that, Merrill," she said simply.

"Oh... anyway, now we know the location of the third eluvian, isn't that wonderful?" the elf asked excitedly, determined to maintain her bubbly cheerfulness, causing Morrigan to smile in spite of herself.

"Yes, except that we do not know the glyph to activate it," the human mage remarked, deflating Merrill, though only momentarily.

"I'm sure we'll discover it eventually," she said with deep conviction. "By the way, how are you feeling, Morrigan? That's probably going to leave a nasty scar, I'm sorry to say," Merrill added, pointing at the thick layer of bandages on the human's chest.

"That is the least of my concerns at this point," Morrigan smirked. "Those healing potions helped, it was certainly lucky that they were not smashed when I fell. And it was fortunate that you managed to find them. So, I will live, but right now I remain irritatingly weak... walking large distances is probably beyond me."

"We could just remain here until you recover?" Merrill suggested timidly.

"We could... but there are a few problems with that plan, my sweet elf," the human apostate replied, grumbling as she squinted into the distance. "First of all, we have no food supplies whatsoever. Secondly... I believe those mountains are the Gamordan Peaks... which means that this chasm below," she pointed at the deep crevice in the earth, appearing bottomless and stretching beyond what their eyes could see in both directions, "...is the Abyssal Reach. Yes, it is as bad as the name suggests... it is literally crawling with darkspawn. So, no, we cannot remain here for long."

"That's not so good," Merrill nodded, looking a little downcast now. "And the nearest settlement?"

"Probably more than hundred miles away," Morrigan remarked sourly. "So, yes... I would agree that things do not look very good right now."

"Oh well," Merrill brightened up again, in a way that Morrigan found both endearing and irritating at once. "We can't remain here, so... I guess you should rest up some more... and then we should take our chances and start walking. Maybe along the road we'll meet someone friendly who will help us!"

Morrigan wanted to snap back that they are more likely to encounter someone who will try to kill and eat them, but then suddenly remembered of something. "Wait... you just reminded me of an important detail, well done!" she exclaimed, getting up, ignoring the pain in her chest. "I remember hearing of an old Grey Warden fortress on the edge of the Abyssal Reach. If we could reach it, we might find safety there!"

"Great!" Merrill exclaimed cheerfully, helping Morrigan steady herself. "You know, I always wanted to visit Orlais! It seemed so impressive from the tales of the Chantry Mothers in Kirkwall!"

Morrigan's only answer to that was an exasperated groan, as the pair slowly began to walk away from the dark cave, holding yet another of the mysterious eluvians.

* * *

_City of Val Royeaux, Orlais_

Standing on the glorious marble steps leading up to the Grand Cathedral of Val Royeaux, Bethany Hawke looked critically over her new uniform. Knowing that she was unused to wearing heavy armor like Cassandra did, the Seekers had sought out magically enchanted protective armor of the lightest leathers they could find. Bethany was aware that accepting a mage amongst the Seekers was something highly extraordinary and had happened only few times during the history of the ancient order, so she had known that she would not be able to keep wearing robes and announce herself as a mage. These soft leathers suited her well, however, they did not restrict her spellcasting, as well as did a nice job of bringing out her trim figure and long, slim legs.

"This is very pretty, and comfortable too," she sighed in content, Cassandra standing nearby and watching her with an amused smile on her lips. Bethany pointed at the Seeker symbol emblazoned in bright white upon the leathers, the ever-watchful eye amidst the shining, radiating sun representing the Chantry itself. "This is a bit of a giveaway if they expect me to do more of this undercover work, though," she added with a chuckle.

"Oh, I sincerely doubt the Divine expects you to wear it for every occasion," Cassandra replied. "I'm just glad she approved of my actions by involving you in this plot and saw the wisdom of what accepting you into our order could bring to the Seekers."

"Yes, she was... different from what I had imagined and from what I was told," Bethany nodded, remembering their audience with the Divine Justinia V. "A formidable and wise woman, or at least that's the impression I got."

"You are not wrong about that," Cassandra agreed.

"I wonder what sort of assignment she has in mind for me," Bethany mused thoughtfully. "Will we be working together? I would like that, I think... but it probably would be hard if I'm expected to infiltrate some rogue mage cabals or something like that."

"I enjoyed working with you, Bethany, and for the first few years you will usually be working with someone closely supervising you. Most likely it will be me, but you must be prepared to take action on your own," the older Seeker instructed her. "As for your next assignment, sometimes it takes a while for something to come up. Until we are summoned, we should rest and keep ourselves fit and ready. Perhaps traverse the land on our own, watching carefully for signs of trouble."

"Hmm, perhaps I will be asked to gain the trust of some beautiful but evil witchy blood mage, relying on my quick wit, natural charms and powers of persuasion to make her fall in love with me and thus redeeming her," Bethany grinned broadly, arching out her chest in a seductive manner. A templar walking close by apparently had chosen that particular moment to look upon her, unable to tear his eyes away, first stepping into an empty bucket in his path and then promptly walking into the wall and crashing heavily to the floor, dazed. "Oh... oops," Bethany blushed wildly, shrinking back a little. "Didn't mean to do that!"

"Yes, you... do not seem to be aware of just how effective your physical attractiveness can be," Cassandra remarked, an odd, faraway look on her face. "It is a powerful weapon... but for your own sake, I wish you would never have to utilize it. With enough practice, I think you would be able to turn the heads of the most devout Andrastians, sworn to resist charms such as yours."

"Ah... surely you must be exaggerating, Cassandra," Bethany smiled, still blushing deep red. "I'm not really that good at it... especially amongst all those Orlesians who have been brought up knowing the rules of the Game by heart. I'm actually quite innocent and cloistered in many ways."

"Yes, you have managed to retain some of your innocence. That is what makes your charms particularly effective and disarming."

"Hmm... the way you speak, Cassandra..." Bethany looked at the other Seeker, thoughtfully biting her lower lip. "Dare I guess that my... charms have had effect on you as well?"

Now it was the older Seeker's turn to blush slightly. "Perhaps, but that is not a road we will pursue. And no, I advise you not to view it as a challenge, Bethany. It will only lead to disaster," she spoke gravely.

"Very well, I will respect your wishes, of course," Bethany smiled, deep inside feeling a smug bit of satisfaction from having coaxed the confession that Cassandra found her attractive. "Tell me... have you ever used your own good looks in your line of work?"

Cassandra looked a little uncomfortable before replying. "Only once," she confessed after a long, ponderous pause. "I am... not proud of that episode, so I hope that you do not have to go down that path. I exposed a traitor amongst our own order, but to do so, I had to... become intimate with my target. His crimes were great and in the end he faced the hangman's noose, but with his last words he cursed me. It is a... cruel way to expose someone, and I feel that I... lost a little of myself on that day. That is why I say that I hope you are never put in a similar position."

"Yes... I'm not sure I could do something like that," Bethany nodded morosely. "But well, never say never, I guess. If it was something incredibly important, if the fate of Thedas depended on it... well, I guess I might do it." She then let out a sharp laugh, trying to lighten the suddenly somber mood. "But surely I am getting way ahead of myself..."

"Yes, we can return to this discussion if you ever become renowned as Bethany Hawke, the best pillow spy amongst the Seekers of Truth," Cassandra deadpanned.

"Ha! What do they say... I lay back and think of Maker?" Bethany chortled, then impulsively grabbing Cassandra's hand. "But look at me talking nonsense, we better get going! You promised me a tour of Val Royeaux, remember?"

* * *

_City of Amaranthine, Ferelden _

Riona and Nathaniel spent the night in Amaranthine at his sister Delilah's house, before Nathaniel set out first thing in the morning, even skipping breakfast, wishing to secure passage across the Waking Sea for them without delay. They were in luck, a small trading vessel called 'The Sea Cucumber' that regularly sailed between Amaranthine, Cumberland and Kirkwall was due to depart in three days. Riona and Nate spent this time at Delilah's place, keeping company to their hostess and her young son, Delilah grateful for their presence while her husband Albert was traveling with a merchant caravan all the way to Gwaren.

Even if some time had passed, Riona was still slightly stunned that Nathaniel had agreed to accompany her on this journey, even more, he had absolutely insisted upon it. When she continued to express her disbelief, he simply took her in his arms, smiled and asked her, what would she do if something horrible had happened to Delilah and Nathaniel was about to launch a daring rescue of his sister.

"Of course I would follow you, without a shadow of doubt," Riona had answered, then wondering why she had thought that Nathaniel would feel differently if their roles had been reversed_. I guess it's really about time I start truly believing that he means it when he says that for me he would do just about anything_, Riona thought to herself, as on one foggy morning they brought their belongings to 'The Sea Cucumber', docked at the harbor. _It's just... I don't know, I shouldn't have any trust issues, really, it makes no sense... but still, being on the receiving end of unconditional, uncompromising love... I know Varric loved me in his own... rugged way, he disliked all those loud proclamations of his feelings, coaxing emotions out of him was such hard work at times... Nathaniel is just so very different. _

On some level, she was glad that the ship was taking them straight to Cumberland, where they could procure horses and travel deeper inland, avoiding Kirkwall. While she missed Aveline horribly, the travel by road from Cumberland would take less time, and time was of essence. Also, she didn't want to get hit in the face, which knowing Aveline and her temper, would probably happen. _Not that it would be completely undeserved, mind you._

Now, as they began to bring their supplies aboard of 'The Sea Cucumber', Riona could not help but to remember her last sea voyage, prisoner of Queen Maythre's pet general, fighting for her life for most of the journey. And the previous sea travel before that was even less enjoyable, on a ship packed with fugitives, fleeing Ferelden from the Blight, over three dozen people packed like sardines, suffering for two weeks of the journey in horrible conditions.

Riona had expected that a ship about to depart on a lengthy sail would see a bit more hustle and bustle, more sailors milling about and getting the vessel ready for departure, but there was only the elderly captain on the upper deck, greeting them with a grimace on his face that seemed to tailor the unpleasantly chilly and foggy morning. "I'm terribly sorry Nathaniel... I can only offer my deepest apologies to you and Lady Amell," he spoke in a quiet, rasping voice.

"Apologies, what for?" Nathaniel asked. "Have you encountered delays? When do you expect to depart?"

"I'm sorry, I wish there had been a way to tell you before..." the captain shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "We're departing as soon as they remove you from the ship."

"As soon as they... what?" Nathaniel blinked. "Who are they?"

"That would be us," came a cold female voice from behind them, both Nathaniel and Riona swirling around to face a tall woman dressed in full armor, staring at them with a sardonic smirk on her pale lips. "I thought you told me you hated sea voyages," she added, turning to Riona.

"Cauthrien," Riona exclaimed, quickly surveying the forces the general had brought with her. There were at least eight of the Royal Guard, which meant that open hostilities would likely end with her and Nathaniel both getting skewered with swords. "What do you want? This trip certainly won't be made more pleasant by having your charming company."

"The feeling is mutual, Lady Amell," Cauthrien added mockingly. "Did you really think a change of address would help you remain undetected? I wonder what would your father think about you casting his name aside so easily."

Riona felt a surge of anger flashing in her temples from the well aimed baiting, just barely managing to silence her rage. "You still haven't answered my question. What do you want? I don't think you came all this way just to try and provoke us."

"True enough," Cauthrien shrugged casually. "I came to bring you back to Denerim. Queen's orders. And while I'm supposed to bring you back alive, if you think to talk back to me, you will be arriving in the capital missing your wicked little tongue."

"What does the Queen want with me... again?" Riona asked, utterly puzzled.

"Ferelden readies itself for war with Orlais, I suppose there is no harm in letting you know that," Cauthrien replied. "The Queen thinks you would be an asset in leading the mages that have flocked to Ferelden."

"Why would I want to fight the wars of your Queen?" Riona crossed her arms on her chest defiantly. "I have no desire to aid in her quest for glory. What's my motivation?"

"You have met the Queen... surely you know that she is very persuasive and excellent at providing motivation," Cauthrien smirked.

"We will not do as you demand, you cannot detain us!" Nathaniel protested, finally finding his voice. "It is imperative that we get to Nevarra, Riona's sister is in danger!"

"Hmm, it appears you have found yourself a protector in the Howe youngling?" Cauthrien chuckled, then her face becoming cruel as she stared at Nathaniel. "The Queen does not care about him, however, he is unimportant in the grand scheme of things." A brief nod to her guards followed. "Kill him."

"No!" Riona yelled, moving in the path of the two guards advancing towards Nathaniel, readying her staff. "I don't care if I end up dead defending Nathaniel, but I will not stand by idly and watch how you execute him!"

"Ah..." Cauthrien remarked, clicking her tongue smugly. "It appears we have found our motivation. Very well," she turned towards the guards. "Don't kill him, seize them both and keep them unharmed." A brief struggle followed, but both Riona and Nathaniel knew that they were helplessly overpowered, soon ending up held by the guards, arms twisted and bent behind their backs.

"You will regret this," Nathaniel spoke warningly, facing Cauthrien with a burning stare. "I suggest you release us im-" Then his head suddenly drooped and body became limp in the arms of the guards holding him, following the heavy punch in the face by Cauthrien's gauntleted fist.

"I'm going to kill you for that, I swear!" Hawke hissed, shaking with fury, as Cauthrien turned towards her, looking as if she enjoyed watching Riona struggling helplessly in the arms of her captors.

"I sincerely doubt that you will, dear Hawke," the general said, throwing another look at Nathaniel's unconscious form. "No, you will do everything as the Queen tells you, because if you do not, your lover will pay for your disobedience by spending hours on the torture rack in Fort Drakon. That is why you will follow me to Orlais and help us win this coming war."

"You'll trip up sooner or later, Cauthrien... you and your Queen," Riona snarled, even as she knew she was defeated... at least for the time being. "And when you do, I will be there, ready to exact my vengeance."

"We shall see, Hawke," Cauthrien replied, her face stone cold as she grasped Riona's chin in her gauntleted hand and began to squeeze painfully, forcing Hawke to cry out when she felt her bones were about to get crushed by Cauthrien's hand. "But for now, you better get ready for a trip to the picturesque Orlais..." the general added, releasing Riona's cheek from the painful hold. "And don't look so glum, Hawke... I just spared you one of your hated sea voyages..."

**THE END**

* * *

_A/N: Well, I'm actually quite pleased how I managed to get all the storylines converging towards Orlais, in preparations for Dragon Age 3. And so, that's that for my DA stories for now: I will see you again after the release of DA3! Meanwhile, if you liked this story and also play the Mass Effect games, please do look up my stories set up in that verse. If not, I thank you for your attention anyway! :) _

_(Crap, and I forgot Riona's mabari again for this last part. Can't we just assume it died? Yep, let's do that, Spot caught rabies and had to be put down in Vigil's Keep. There, problems solved.)_


End file.
